


The Favored Champion

by sugarapplesweet



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Sex, Aliens, Animal Death, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blood, Bloodplay, Corruption, F/M, Intergalactic Whorehouses, M/M, Multi, Original Character Death(s), Pre-Voltron!Shiro, blood sports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:19:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 58,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7773748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarapplesweet/pseuds/sugarapplesweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It turned out that being abducted from Pluto, thrown into an alien coliseum, and earning the title of Champion weren't the worst things that Takashi Shirogane could be faced with after leaving Earth.  No, the real horror was discovering just how the Galra Empire chose to reward its prized fighters.  Rewards that might take away just as much as they leave behind.</p><p>Maybe Shiro was better off not remembering any of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Sinking Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to geckostuffs on tumblr for the inspiration. If by some miracle of fate this finds you, I hope that you are well and that my writing does even a little justice to your wonderful art.

As an empire, the Galra needed more than their military might to hold the universe firm in their grasp. Their culture existed eons before Emperor Zarkon took the throne, but under the influence of the Druids swearing loyalty to him, the Galra came into their own. Crisp, geometric artworks lined the halls of both home and ship, and among homesick soldiers there was respite in the music crafted only for their keen ears. Ballads that sang of war heroes and legends in the coliseums brought the Galra together across galaxies.

Although many of these songs were centuries and even millennia old, a new tale was being spun among the Galra and the people they assimilated. A new legend crafted out of the crudest material and told in languages too many to fathom much less count. They knew him as the Champion, a human from a planet called Earth, and to date, there wasn’t a single loss on his record. The Champion was so impressive that whispers started to spread of the Druids themselves being interested in him.

The Champion was as close to a demigod as any of them dared to believe in.

Yet little was known about the “man” himself. He showed military experience and valor, but humans were a short-lived race. He wasn’t even half the age of a Galra recruit much less a commander. Still, he challenged them as well.

He stood in the center of the gladiator ring, blood pooling under his greying tuft of hair and dribbling down his forehead and over his eyes. Eyes which were narrowed as tight as his teeth were visibly clenched. He pointed up to the stands with his right hand, and he spoke with spite and conviction.

“Come down here and face me! I want a fight, not a slaughter!”

The crowd gasped with astonishment, and they turned in unison to witness how the challenge would be met. The Galra commander he was barking at was none other than Sendak, one of Emperor Zarkon’s favored few.

Monstrously large even among others of his kind, he was reclined in his seat while still wearing his prized armor. Two deep-set yellow eyes glared down at the Champion from his breastplate, but the commander barely blinked with his natural eye. His right eye, replaced with a red sphere, was unreadable as was his expression. The only sign that he was paying attention at all were the way his ears pointed forward. Then he stood and began his descent from the spectator’s booth.

As Commander Sendak walked, his left arm swung low over the steps. It was as wide as his torso, and the fingers and claws were akin to a giant club. Quintessence crackled where the arm joined to the shoulder and was further protected by a pauldron the size of his head. Wicked and crude in appearance, this arm alone dwarfed the human in every visible way..

Yet the Champion stood his ground.

“A slave, undefeated as he might be, should know his place,” Sendak warned. “You have completed your task in winning the last battle.

“You will be returned to your handlers.”

He sneered and lifted his left hand, opening the palm as if welcoming the challenge regardless. Then a cage dropped from the ceiling and encircled the Champion as its base dug into the ground, followed by a decisive snap as it closed. The young man didn’t even flinch. He also didn’t look away from Sendak while the cage was lifted back into the air.

The stadium lights dimmed, and the Champion disappeared into the darkness above. The crowd below him were either quieted by the commander’s presence, or he was already too far up to hear them anymore. Either way, he could feel his legs giving out as soon as their presence was gone. He sat down on the floor of his cage before they sent him toppling over. His sore and bloodied hands wrapped themselves around the cool, metal bars for minor comfort..

As much as Shiro tried to stop himself from shaking, he could hear the whole cage shuddering with him. What was he _thinking?_ That arm would’ve crushed him then and there if he wasn’t so damn valuable to these lunatics. What he said wasn’t scheduled, wasn’t a part of this twisted primetime show, but they let him get away with it. Nothing he said mattered as long as he kept winning.

The night was long from over, though. The cage continued to rattle, and although it was black as pitch, Shiro was sure he wasn’t going up but rather over. The system they rigged to transport him across this base was eerie in its silence. No clacking gears or whirring motors to help ground his thoughts. He didn’t move from the metal floor until he was visible again.

Shiro was blinded by a flood of fuschia. He scowled and put his arm over his face until his eyes had a chance to adjust to the garish lighting. No matter how long he stayed in Galra custody, the pink and purple hues made focusing on his surroundings difficult. He stood and took a fighting stance. Better that the awaiting Galra see him on his feet, even if he wasn’t ready for another round.

There, a Druid was waiting for him along with a small collection of soldiers, but it was one he didn’t recognize. They were as gaunt as any of the others he saw, but they wore a bronze mask over their face. He guessed they saw through the two jagged lines cut into the metal, but there wasn’t any hint of the Galra’s yellow eyes. Regardless, they motioned for their entourage to approach the cage.

Shiro tried not to smirk when the Galra soldiers swarmed him. He struggled, and they fought back to keep him still enough to place a collar around his neck and bind his hands behind his back. In the beginning, they underestimated him and sent only a couple soldiers to restrain him. They learned to bring a larger force over time. The quintessence always managed to hold him in the end, though, and he admitted he was no closer to figuring out how to manipulate it.

“You fought well, Champion,” the Druid said. “However… it would seem you did more than catch the eye of the public. I would not say it was a wise choice to bring the ire of Commander Sendak upon you.”

“He was the one who challenged me.”

Shiro chose to keep a tight lip after that, but through both the day and night, he watched the looming figure in the stands. As dark as the coliseum was, the pink glow of the arm was impossible to miss. What was curious was how this Sendak would disappear for any match that wasn’t the Champion’s, and then reappear just before Shiro took to the arena. He was watching.

The whole time, during every fight, that Galra was keeping both his natural and prosthetic eyes on him. What was he looking for?

The Druid surprised Shiro with a hoarse, if half-whispered, laugh. They pulled him closer without laying a hand on him until they were a single step away. “The commander has no claim to you, Champion. He knows only so much as Haggar lets him know.”

They returned him to the care of the soldiers, and whatever joke they felt he made was brushed under a rug. It occurred to Shiro that this Druid spoke to him almost as much as Haggar herself did. The majority of the Druids he had experience with were silent, to the point where he wasn’t sure if they could speak at all. What it meant for this one in particular to talk to him, he was clueless, but he noted it all the same. Everything could be a loophole, or an answer to a question he didn’t think of yet.

He kept in step with the guards escorting him to places yet unknown to him. The lights didn’t change, and they passed one identical hatch after another. The only change he could pick out was the smell. It crept under his nose, and he was sure he recognized it. One of the few things he recognized since being abducted by these alien monsters.

_Perfume._

As for what kind of perfume, Shiro was at a loss, but it was definitely fragrant and lingering The strong and sickly kind that stuck to the back of his throat whenever he would walk through a department store during his brief time off-base. He choked back a cough as they walked further into the cloud. He could almost see it in the oppressive pink light, and the soldiers in front of and behind him were becoming shrouded.

A warning shove from the butt of one of the rifles kept him moving along. The sounds on either side of the hallway were too curious to ignore, though. As different from human laughter as it was, he was sure that’s what he heard. A strange, foreign thing to hear after so many months in captivity, but it was unmistakable.

They finally came to a stop in front of one of the hatches, but Shiro wasn’t walked through. One of the Galra behind him reached around his face, and he jerked back in surprise. Before he could figure out what they were doing, cold leather and metal brushed over his cheeks. The thing was put over his face without much of a struggle. His arms were already held back, and the space was too narrow for him to throw his weight behind him.

When they were done, Shiro realized what was then covering his face. A black patent leather muzzle, of which he could only see by looking down his nose. The band was wrapped around his head and clasped in the back with a metal buckle, and it was the first time anything of the sort was included in his restraints. Out of curiosity, he ran his tongue over the front. He tasted steel and felt the teeth of a closed zipper.

He didn’t try to ask himself why he was given such a thing to wear.

They weren’t done with the unusual game of dress up. With a firm push, a heavy boot landed on the small of his back and made him kneel down, and another hand shoved his head down toward the floor. His standard cuffs were removed and replaced with a full-body restraint. One that temporarily freed his arms to fish them through.

Shiro took the opportunity to catch one of the Galra’s heels and upend them over onto their back. Another boot landed square on the back of his neck and pinned him until they were finished. Under the mask, he still managed to smirk in triumph. Every act of rebellion felt like a victory.

The harness they slipped onto him fit snugly over his bodysuit. It hugged his upper arms, and his forearms were brought around to his back again. The soldiers laced them together with surprisingly nimble fingers despite their claws and hauled him back up from the floor. Leather straps hugged his chest while delicate chains draped themselves over his barely concealed abs.

Lightyears from Earth, and Shiro still understood perfectly well what he was wearing. Once fond memories of his nights away from the garrison were turned to potential nightmares in less than five minutes, yet his mind worked away at the possibilities of who he might be dressed up for. Or rather what, which often was the case out in the void of the universe.

At long last, the hatch opened and revealed a single person of an alien race unfamiliar to him. Impossibly tall for the tight quarters, they nonetheless held a grand presence and distracted Shiro from his panic.

Two hands, with three long fingers each, were folded and resting on a wide and flat chest, and six legs tucked themselves under a heavy lower body. The first living Earthen thing that came to mind was a spider, but the feet ended in soft paws rather than delicate, hairy toes meant for crawling on webs. Their whole body was covered in thick, turquoise fur that ended in curls on the floor.

Their face, much like the Druid who spoke to him, was hidden behind a bronze mask. This one had six slits cut into its surface as well as a sickle for a smile, and two large red stones were embedded into it like blushing cheeks. Around their neck was more bronze jewelry and red stones which dragged across the ground.

“Greetings, Champion,” they said. “Welcome… to my home, the residence of Madame Renaud and her children.”

Her voice was thin, like there wasn’t enough air for her to breathe, but the tone implied a genuine smile behind the mask. Shiro felt her eyes wander over him. She reached out and gave one of his chains a tug and laughed. Under his own mask, a blush was creeping over his face. This kind of treatment was too new, and he didn’t know how to fight back.

“I would have liked to clean you up before your appointment, but the Commander insisted that you remain in your bloodied clothes.” The madame’s hand caressed his leather cheek. “It was his dearest wish that you be brought here to him.

“My children will be envious, although I don’t know whether it is of you or him.”

Shiro’s legs staggered backward. The Galra pushed him forward in return, and Madame Renaud caught him by the back of his harness. A loud ‘click’ leashed him to her.

With her free hand, she waved the soldiers off. The laughter never left her voice, and the eyeless holes in her mask seemed to wink at him all at once. “Go and play, dears. He is mine and the Commander’s to deal with now.”

Finally, Shiro found his voice despite the snug fit of the muzzle.

“I’m no one’s pet.”

Madame Renaud tugged him along after her regardless. Her body moved like a lizard’s, her long torso swaying from side to side as her paws padded through the space bordello. He watched his own footing while keeping up after her. Shiro was sure she wouldn’t be bothered by the prospect of dragging him to their destination if he fell too far behind.

The lights here were still purple here, but they were tinged with more red than the hallway they left behind them. What appeared to be smoke curled out from under top-down doors, and the laughter gave way to noises of a carnal nature. Groans, moans, and cries among strange chittering and near wailing. If only the Galra had muffed his ears rather than muzzled him.

“I suggest you be on your best behavior.” Madame Renaud looked back at him over her shoulder. “If you please him, I’m sure you’ll be rewarded. Commander Sendak recognizes those who present themselves well.”

She snickered at what she apparently intended as a crude joke and opened one of the many doors near the end of the sector. To whatever gods existed out on this rock in the universe, Shiro was grateful that no one was waiting for them when she brought him inside the room. It wouldn’t be long before he had company, but he had time to clear his head. Figure out a way to get out of this, put an end to what was happening before it got a chance to start.

Where the madame set him down wasn’t what he imagined for an intergalactic whore house. It was basically a slab of solid stone with just enough heavy blankets and fine furs to pass for a bed. The lighting kept everything bathed in an ominous red, but over the slab was a canopy. As if the place couldn’t be indulgent enough, beads of quintessence glittered just above his head. The Galra Empire could apparently afford to use their most precious energy source for decoration these days.

Madame Renaud let him take in the scenery and busied herself with preparing the drinks. It was a liquor Shiro often saw being passed around by those who placed their bets well enough to celebrate after the last matches were over. A sickly yellow concoction, to which the alien woman added a drop of pink quintessence to each glass, and the pink quickly settled to the bottom. She topped the cocktail with a black cube wedged onto the rim.

To his surprise, she offered the glass to him. “Shall I pour it into your mouth for you, Champion? I know you asked for a challenge, but there is no shame in preparing yourself.”

For the first time since he met her, Madame Renaud almost sounded concerned. The smile was still plastered on the mask, but even the eyes looked uncertain. Her drastic change in mannerisms was enough to make him speak up one more time.

“Yes,” Shiro said. “I think you better.”


	2. First Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific Warnings for This Chapter:
> 
> Alien Dick  
> Alien and Human Blood  
> Alien and Human Sex  
> Blood Play Fantasy  
> Rape/Non-Con  
> Rough Anal Sex

The drink warmed the back of Shiro’s neck and tip-toed across to his shoulders.  As pleasant as the feeling was after surviving the arena, the tension was building in his head.  Madame Renaud was gone, and her “children” and their voices faded into the background.  He closed his eyes to shut out the red lights too.  Although meditating in this place wasn’t the same as in his cell, it was all he could do.  He needed to ground himself.

After slowing his breathing and emptying out as many thoughts as possible, he found the center he was looking for.

Sometimes, in moments like this, he was certain he felt the streams of quintessence flowing through the universe.  It hummed through the soles of his feet, and Shiro felt it travel all the way up to the crown of his head.  It was different from the quintessence in the cocktail.  Ingesting the stuff made him feel dizzy and then warm while it lingered in his system and spread down into his fingertips.  What he felt through the floor was unique in that it made him feel almost weightless.

Like he wasn’t any greater or lesser than anything else in the universe, but simply a part of it.  Shiro felt nothing like this on Earth, although he guessed the energy was there too.  Maybe what those crazies in the hills called ley lines?  He didn’t know enough yet to do more than guess.

While focusing on the vibrations, Shiro furrowed his brow.  The rhythm of the bordello was changing, and he felt the quintessence pulling away.  It stilled and seemed to disappear altogether.  He reached further out and grasped for the smallest sign that the energy was still there.  What he wasn’t prepared for was the quintessence to reach back and flood over him, surging like a tidal wave.

His eyes snapped open, and he breathed in hard through the muzzle. The harness twisted against his arms, but his human response was urging him to either fight back against the invisible force or run from it.  Which would’ve been preferable if he had anywhere to run.  The only way out was through the locked hatch, and he had a damn good guess of who was on the other side.

Commander Sendak’s presence spoke for itself.  The Druids wrote their sigils and performed rituals in secret.  The rest of the Galra and those drawn under their banner knew the commander’s power when they so much as set eyes on him.

And there, unable to comprehend his size and dominance, was the human Champion who dared to challenge him out in the open.  The boy was more than a competent brawler, but the wide black eyes spoke volumes about his inexperience with Galra ideals in a soldier.  They didn’t know where to look, so their gaze fell on his arm.  As bright as the pink quintessence and as brutal as the claws were, the Champion wouldn’t need to meet the red or yellow eye.

“No bold declarations?” Sendak asked.  “I’m almost disappointed, Champion.”

Shiro was grateful for the muzzle, because it kept the commander from seeing him try and fail to speak.  The arm truly was larger than his entire body, and when he dared to take in the rest of the Galra standing before him, the drink from earlier became a dead weight in his gut.  He was still wearing his heavy armor, and his expression was one of grim and decisive judgement.  The natural eye narrowed as it looked down at him.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

Sendak’s right ear twitched, and the red eye started to burn brighter.  The metal dial whirred and spun to the next marker.  Shiro stood straighter under the scrutiny, which was an unconscious act inspired from another one-eyed officer he answered to back in his days at the garrison.  Military discipline had a way of creeping into his every movement.

The meager tuft of black and grey hair on the boy’s head was unfortunate, but the Champion possessed other desirable traits.    A rigid jaw concealed under leather, chest straining against bonds, and taut thighs stained with the blood of the fallen.  This human’s presentation was better than Sendak anticipated.

After sizing one another up, it was Sendak who moved the quickest.  With his right paw, he lifted the human up by the throat, collar and all, and slammed him into the wall beside the bed.  His claws dug into the leather, although they didn’t break through.  The smirk which followed was the first change in expression he had since entering the suite.

“I accept your challenge,” he said.  “We’ll see how long you last.”

Shiro snarled and tried to kick off the wall.  Futile as it was, he was careful not to strain any of his muscles.  This wasn’t a fight he would win, but he damned well was going to survive it.  He would not beg, and he would not break.  His only choice was to grit his teeth and bear it.  He wouldn’t give this asshole the personal satisfaction of conquering the legendary Champion.

Sendak tightened his grip until the thick material of the collar gave way and the first trickles of blood started to stain his claws.  He lifted his prey up off the wall and brought their faces within a breath of each other, before tossing him down onto the nearest furs.  The Champion tried to sit up, but he was soon pushed down further.  All he could manage was a couple hard kicks against the armor, and Sendak overpowered him.

One leg was still free, but the other was nearly crushed under the massive claw.  The amount of control its owner wielded was the only reason Shiro’s leg stayed intact.  While he was struggling to catch his breath, Sendak was growling deep within his chest.

The growl grew into a thundering laugh.  The Champion’s thin bodysuit was already being stripped away, and the pale skin of his thighs showed through the torn holes.  The flesh was tender and vulnerable.  All it would take was one swift rake of his claws over an artery, and they would both be coated with a spray of hot blood.

Sendak used his augmented arm to hold his prey down for a while longer, and his free paw toyed with the chains hanging over a muscular torso.  The sound of metal against his stained claws was pleasurable.  He could feel his loins start to burn when he breathed in the scent of human blood and sweat.  His dark tongue ran over yellowed canines.

“I stayed my hand for you, Champion,” he said.  “You should submit and give yourself willingly.”  He left the chains alone and dragged his jagged fingertips down the shivering, exposed torso.  “You can’t defend yourself here.”

Under the muzzle, Shiro gritted his teeth.  He wasn’t far enough gone to think he _wanted_ any of this, but he was well aware of his growing length.  Although there weren’t any spectators here, no certain life or death, he was tense.  His body was betraying him, and Sendak actually thought it meant he was eager for any of this to happen.

_“Fuck you.”_

Sendak’s paw snatched his manhood up in a meaty palm.  He squeezed just enough to make the Champion writhe under him and gasp in pain.  The hardening cock throbbed, but it fit nicely in his near fist.  Holding fast, Sendak’s middle finger reached back until his claw rested in the cleft of the human’s firm buttocks.  He cut into the fabric and curled the digit back into the fist.  Making the perfect opening for his immediate plans.

It was impossible to see past the breastplate staring down at him from where Shiro was pinned.  His shoulders were burning from being held behind him for so long, and his legs were losing their strength.  Try as he might, his focus was slipping.  His mind was struggling to protect him from what he knew was coming next.

Everything went blank altogether when he felt a thick finger thrust into his ass.

Shiro’s knees slammed forward, one into the palm of the metal claw and the other into the armor.  His own chest heaved when he swallowed a pained yelp, and his back arched.  Against all reason, his hips bucked which pushed the offending digit even further.  He didn’t register Sendak’s sneer or the heavy scent of Galra musk.

Such a young whelp, but that made the Champion all the more supple.  Sure, there was obvious denial, but his body still gave in with little prompting.  Sendak bared his teeth again.  He forced a second finger into the boy under him.  This time, he heard the muffled cry and looked down just in time to watch the corner of those black eyes water.

“Where is your fighting spirit now?” he asked.  “Is this what it takes to make the Champion afraid?  If only they knew what it took to break you.”

No, Shiro wasn’t broken.  Not yet.  He violently slammed his head against the breastplate in a vain attempt to knock sense into himself.  Fresh blood from his earlier head wound left a stain right between the two yellow eyes.  The sight succeeded in taking his mind off the pain shooting up his back.  This wasn’t the first time anyone treated him like a toy, so he could bear it.  Forget everything else, _survive._

“Just do… whatever the hell it is you’re going to do to me.”  Shiro seethed while blinking back the tears.  “You haven’t broken me yet.  This is nothing.”

Damn him and his mouth.  The relief of having his ass left well enough alone was short-lived but gave him enough time to breathe.  He closed his eyes rather than have to watch Sendak shed his armor.  When he felt the beast of an alien leering down at him, he cracked one eye open.

Breastplate and greaves still fixed to him, the flexible armor that protected Sendak’s lower body had receded.  His already thick fur became a tangled mess along his pleasure trail.  He forwent the arm as well, letting it rest against the wall on its own.  The bright energy of the quintessence that held it in place at his shoulder was gone, yet the commander’s presence was as inescapable as ever.

None of this chilled Shiro more than what he saw between his thighs.

Size alone wasn’t what stopped all coherent thought.  Although the length and girth were comparable to a generously built man like himself, the shape and details made all the difference.  The erection thrust out from a low-hanging pouch.  Despite not knowing thing one about alien breeding, there was no doubt that Sendak was a virile specimen among the Galra.  He was certainly well aware of the fact as well.  It explained a good part of his arrogance.

The plum, almost black, shaft was ridged like plates of armor, and beneath the slick head and along the underside of the shaft, there were noticeable barbs.  They were slightly rounded, but their purpose was enough to push Shiro to the opposite wall.  As far from the sight as possible.

He uselessly shook his head.  “No.  No, we’re not doing that.”

“Yes.  We are doing exactly that, Champion.”

Sendak was on him again in seconds, hauling Shiro up from his back on the slab and onto his knees.  There was no leash.  The commander held him up with one remaining paw, digging its claws into his wrists, and Sendak’s eager cock aligned itself with the his still aching asshole.

A half-whispered prayer fell on Shiro’s lips after bracing himself as best he hoped to.

As Sendak thrust into him, the words became a sharp sob.  His body betrayed him and tensed, and the shock tore through his whole being.  It only got worse when Sendak would pull back to thrust even deeper.  The barbs did exactly what he expected they would, catching and trying to hold him right where he was.  The prosthetic arm wasn’t needed to pin him anymore.

The satisfaction of the Champion’s ass tightening around his cock with every thrust inspired Sendak to pull his prey up higher off the bed.  The muzzle was a good look on him, and more than that, it kept him from biting.  The only downside was that it meant his agonized whimpers weren’t particularly loud enough.  Nor could he kiss him at his leisure, exploring that petite mouth with its delicate teeth.  Instead, he leaned in close to whisper in the boy’s ear.

“Soon enough, you’ll learn how to behave,” he promised.  The rough tongue ran over soft skin and iron blood.  “Learn your place.”

Shiro didn’t hear him.  He was too busy trying to be anywhere, anywhere in the entire universe, than that suite.  The assault was merciless, and he only took half-breaths between the times his hips met Sendak’s.  If not for the Galra holding him up, his legs would give out again.  He couldn’t even feel them.  He leaned against his abuser’s broad chest behind him to ride out the last of his torture.

Letting him bounce on his dick a while longer, Sendak hilted his entire sheath in his prey.  He felt his groin tense.  He pushed the boy back down onto the slab and turned his head, and then shoved that leather cheek into the matted furs. Looking right into those haunted eyes.

The last thrusts ensured he was buried as deep as possible.  His claws dug into the Champion’s short hair, and Sendak’s groan was primal.  The first rope of cum was thick and stuttering, and his cock throbbed with every wash of cum that came after it.  His sack tensed between spread thighs while his fur tangled from the sweat.  Once certain that the Champion was thoroughly filled, he rolled his hips one last time before pulling out.

To toast the occasion, Sendak finally reached for the cocktail provided for him.  Following the burn of alcohol in the back of his throat, he tasted the sweet quintessence.  The gauntness of his cheeks, beneath the fur, was filled out, and he felt the energy take away the fatigue of age.  Such was the condensed power of the universe.

His prey was listless and lying curled up like a young Galra in its nest.

Shiro kept his eyes closed as tight as possible.  He didn’t want to see Sendak, and he especially didn’t want to see the trails of warm fluid running down his legs.  He wasn’t able to tune out the way he was being pet with those damned claws stroking his hair like he was some animal.  And maybe that's just what he was.

Yet it was tempting to lean into the paw, to get some comfort out of the whole damn ordeal, but this wasn’t over.  Like the arena, this was only the first round, and he needed to be up and ready for the second.  The Champion always remained standing in the end, didn’t he?

With great effort, he found his legs and pushed himself up as best as he could with his arms behind his back.  A few deep breaths later, he was coming around.  He felt Sendak watching him again.  He told himself that he didn’t care and edged toward the side of the bed.  When his feet touched the floor, he searched for the quintessence.  It was there, drawn to the carnal energies of the brothel.

Then they sat in silence, save for the hum of the floor and the walls, for a good long while.  After Shiro finally opened his eyes, he smirked over at the feared Galra officer.  He would regret it.  He knew that he would, and he said it anyway.

“You’re going to have to do better than that... to get the best of me.   _Commander._ "


	3. Intergalactic Grooming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because we know so few characters outside of Team Voltron and Zarkon's inner circle, I'm going to need to include a lot of original side characters. I take inspiration from Legendary Defender, of course, but I also pull from Oban Star Racers. Cheers to anyone who remembers that show.

What woke Shiro the following morning wasn’t as unpleasant as he expected.  The yellow eyes of Sendak’s armor weren’t staring back at him, and the air was missing that heavy odor of Galra musk.  No, what woke him up was the subtle change in the bordello’s course.  The two ships belonging to Sendak and Madame Renaud were orbiting the planet where the last gladiator match took place.  Perhaps the shift he felt meant they were ready to leave and head to the next arena?

He tried to sit up from the nest of furs and blankets, but his whole body revolted against the idea.  Shiro’s wounds from the last fight were closed but still too new.  Not to mention the thrashing he was given later which left plenty more cuts, scrapes, and bruises.  Whenever he tried to so much as shift his weight, it felt like needles wedged under his skin.  He groaned and muttered a few choice curses, most of them directed at Sendak.

The hatch door flew open, and a petite alien came inside without an introduction.  Their bronze horns started at the crown of their head, curled back, and brushed shy of their narrow shoulders.  Although their deep blue and linen-wrapped body looked too small for their limbs, their movements were fluid.  In their two-fingered hands, they held a velvet box.

They greeted him in a language he didn’t understand.  A series of thin veils hid their face, but he could see their blue eyes glowing beneath the red fabric.  They expected a reply.

“I’m sorry?  I’m not fluent in… much of anything.”  Shiro was starting to forget what he sounded like without the muzzle.  “Is this for me?”

The alien nodded and popped open the latch.  They held it up closer to his face as if making sure he wasn’t blind too.  Thankfully, he recognized a few things from the scant medkits given to higher ranked gladiators like himself.  Salves and bandages, along with a myriad of capsules for pain relief and sedation.  He needed the sedatives more the night before, but the gift was well intended.

“Send Madame Renaud my thanks.”

The messenger nodded and set the box down on the table beside the empty liquor bottle.  They scrambled onto the bed behind him, and Shiro felt their hands get to work on freeing him from his bonds.  The Galra soldiers weren’t clumsy while lacing him up, but this alien was a professional.  In little time at all, he was free from the harness and muzzle.

Relief washed over him as he rolled his stiff shoulders, feeling coming back into his arms and hands.  No new clothes were provided, but any shame about exposing himself disappeared months ago.  Modesty wasn’t necessary out in galaxies this far flung from Earth.

“You look well, Champion, despite everything.”

The voice didn’t belong to the petite alien sent to take care of him. They seemed unbothered by Madame Renaud speaking through them, and he was sure their eyes were smiling at him.  Humans were such limited creatures.

“A bit sore,” Shiro admitted.  “Thank you for the kit.”

“Not at all, dear.  I am impressed you have the voice to thank me at all, so this is good news.”  How lovely.  “I wish I could speak to you in person, but I hope that Bolide will be helpful to you.  I’m entrusting one of my best to your service.”

“I’ll be sure to take care of them, ah, ma’am.”

There was a pause, and then Shiro really did see the smile hidden under all those veils.  It turned out Bolide’s mouth glowed with the same blue light as their eyes.  They snaked their thin arms around him in a chaste hug and winked up at him.  He amused them somehow?

Bolide let him go and started their work on tending to his sores and wounds.  While Shiro sat on the slab, they cleaned him up first.  The cloth was damp and cold, and it sent shivers down his spine.  He assured them that they could keep going.  They hummed in a positive response as if it never occurred to them to stop.

Treating the injuries was a more daunting task.  Scrapes were simply slathered in quick-gel, and even his head wound was less severe than all the dried blood made it up to be.  The real problem was a set of deep fissures on his right arm.  They were older than his most recent bouts, and by the looks of what was left to heal, Shiro should’ve been given stitches.

Bolide ran their fingers over them and looked up at him with a quizzical expression.

“A fight with a Dressel Lord Beast,” he said.  “I stayed standing just long enough to be the victor, and then I fainted.  Passed clean out in the dirt, and I didn’t wake up until we were in the next galaxy.

“Don’t you know the story?”

Bolide shook their head, and they started to look for infection.  The scar tissue was messy, leaving his pale skin a brownish gray, but it was healing rather well on its own.  They finished bandaging his arm over an extra dose of gel.  Then, for good measure, they kissed his forearm and gave their handiwork a gentle pat.

“Doesn’t the madame let you down into the arena?” he asked.  “Most of the soldiers can’t stop talking about that fight, even if they don’t get all the details”

Until this moment, Shiro assumed everyone in the Galra Empire knew.  It wasn’t out of conceit so much as overhearing one too many conversations.  That was the match that earned him the title of Champion, after all. Soldiers, servants, and other combatants saw him, and their voices lowered into excited whispers.  He watched as their eyes grew wide over the gruesome details.  If they caught him listening, they would go silent out of either fear or respect.  He never knew which.

It also dawned on him that Bolide was the first person he actually _spoke_ to in ages.  The first person since… well, Matt he supposed.

Shiro’s expression changed from mild bafflement to complete melancholy.  His mind wandered back to the earliest holding cells, right after their suits were stripped, and they got thrown in with other alien races.  Everything was new and foreign.  Dr. Samuel tried to feign excitement, but the brevity was short-lived.  In less than a week, he was sent to work in a labor camp.  There was only the two of them.

A tug on his greying fringe snapped him out of his memories, and Bolide looked cross.  Shiro blinked and opened his mouth to speak.  They gestured for him to turn onto his stomach.

He shook his head.  “No, that’s fine.  You’ve done enough.”

They stared at him, leaning in closer to try and intimidate him.  Which of course meant he laughed because honestly?  He was the Champion, and here was an alien no taller than his sternum, trying to bluff him into turning over.  All to take care of his backside.

“I’m sorry, but that’s a definite no.  I can clean that up myself once I get to a shower.”

After another long pause, they finally gave up.  Rolling their eyes- or he guessed that’s what Bolide was doing- they whapped him on the shoulder with the rag still in their hand.  They settled for circling around the slab and rearranging the velvet box’s contents.

Shiro leaned back and put his weight on his left arm.  He expected them to leave after they were finished putting everything away, but they went back to sitting next to him.  Their tiny feet swung off the sides of the bed.  They hummed to keep themselves entertained, and their arm rested against his.

“Wait, are you staying with me the whole time?”

Bolide looked up at him and nodded.  They started to chatter to him, but then they remembered he couldn’t understand.  Frustrated, they pointed to themselves and then to him, then back down at their hand.  A pink inscription glowed on the inside of their wrist.

The Galra word for champion.

Shiro was dumbfounded.  He stared at the mark, then at Bolide’s face, and back at the inscription again.  Oh no, that was not where any of this was going.  Even if it was was another kind gesture on Madame Renaud’s part, this wasn’t okay.

“Get me in contact with the madame,” he said.  It was difficult to keep his tone firm without raising his voice at the same time.  “I need to speak with her, right now.”

Bolide shook their head, and their veils fell over their face further.  The stubborn act was thinning his patience.  They got closer, all but crawling into his lap.  They sensed his frustration, but they were missing the whole reason it was there.  Trying to kiss up his neck despite the collar and him pulling away.

Shiro didn’t raise a single hand..  “I haven’t eaten since yesterday.  I need to go back to my cell.”

The silence was colder than before when he stood.  His companion didn’t argue, but they also didn’t look pleased with his decision.  He was getting in the way of their job..

“Champion, is something the matter?”

Shiro glared at Bolide.  “Why are they here?”

“Why, to take care of you.  Commander Sendak agreed to hand over your custody until we arrived at our next port of call,” she said.  “I felt that you should be rewarded for your… good behavior, shall we say?”

Oh, so Madame Renaud was going to take the conservative route.  How _charming._

“Dismiss them.”

As glamorous as a whorehouse suite was compared to a gladiator’s cell, the expectations weren’t worth the luxury.  The cloth canopy dripping with quintessence, the thick blankets and warm furs…  He would do fine without them.  The cold mattress set in what might as well have been a coffin was serviceable for a bed.  It worked for however many months he was out in space already.

“The decision was made by your superiors, Champion,” the madame insisted.  “Do as you like, or don’t like, with your servant.  So long as you are on _my_ ship, they will not leave your side.”

Having the final word on the matter, she cut communications.  Shiro turned a cold shoulder to the alien sharing his new quarters.  He felt them watching his every move while he started to pace the floor.

This situation wasn’t dire, and Bolide didn’t mean any harm on their own.  Neither of them had to do what anyone else expected.  They could keep this whole arrangement platonic.  As much as he wanted to deny it, the idea of having company at all was pleasant in and of itself.

Finally, he stopped walking the length of the room.  He took a deep breath and sighed, and he turned his head just enough to look at them out of the corner of his eye.

“Alright.  I know what you are and what kind of ‘services’ you probably offer.”  He tried not to think about their possible anatomy at the same time.  “But I don’t need any of that.  Is that clear?”

Bolide slowly nodded.

“Okay, that’s a good start.”  Shiro pointed to the door.  “Now, I meant what I said about getting me something to eat.  You can go and get it for me, can’t you?”

The smile returned to the small alien’s face, and they jumped up from the bed to comply.  They hesitated long enough to motion for him to sit back down and stay put before they left.  Regardless of their clear psychic abilities, Bolide knew they couldn’t win a tussle against a human of his caliber.  They wouldn’t dare open the hatch until he was far enough away from it.

As tempting as an escape attempt was, Shiro didn’t know anything about the layout of this ship.  He was too distracted the night before to pay attention to the route they took from the docking bay to here.  He sat down on the far side of the bed and waited for Bolide to disappear through the hatch.  The mechanism locked as soon as they left.

Brushing his hand against his new set of restraints, he flinched.  No one was there to see him tense, but Shiro’s face got hot all the same.  The harness really was the worst of it.  Galra taste in fashion was all about hard edges and heavy materials.  Unlaced and off his body, the restraints were akin to bat wings, and the laces themselves were braided cords of thick leather.  The most delicate aspect were the chains.

The craftsman understood precious metals.  Although not obvious at a glance, the silver was dense, weighted, and of good quality.  Yet the links were so small, so tight-knit, that he couldn’t see the color of his skin through them.  Silver upon silver and not likely to break under stress.  Perfect for a harness worn by the fuck-toy of a lust driven “military marvel” Galra.

Shiro dropped the chain in his hand and got up to pace.  Whenever he caught his thoughts running ahead of him, he would get on his feet.  Stand or walk, just put him on a horizontal plane, as long as he was grounded.  The comfort of his own weight was all he needed.

He was on his fourteenth lap when Bolide returned.  Instead of food, they brought him clothes, and their blue-lit smile was as wide as their whole face.  The expression was infectious.

“I take it we’re headed out for breakfast?”

With an unnerving amount of glee, Bolide set to work helping him get dressed according to the customs of the brothel.  The sleek fabric covered a surprising amount of skin, although it didn’t hide his form and musculature.  The way it hugged around his arms and thighs was the same as his usual bodysuit.  He felt secure, like the outfit was a second skin.

The detailing was minimal which Shiro supposed meant this was a staff uniform.  The color was a deep red that looked almost black until it caught the right light.  On the back, bronze thread was stitched into an geometric pattern in vogue with Garla aesthetic.  Otherwise, it was a softer look than the harness.

Bolide stepped back to study him for a moment.  Their blue eyes scrutinized the fit, then the length of his sleeves and legs, and finally settled on his face.  They shook their head, and Shiro gave them a helpless frown.  What was wrong?

They reached up to their own face and removed one of their many veils.  From the velvet box, they also grabbed a few bronze pins with blue stones for heads.  Using these bibs and bobs, they pinned the veil to the top of his right shoulder and the cuff of his sleeve.  After a bit of fussing with the placement, they were finished.

The accessory was simple, but Bolide was delighted with their own work.  Making all kinds of pleased hums and excited chittering.  They also couldn’t stop touching him, although Shiro was starting to accept that being touched was unavoidable.  Here, everyone’s concept of personal space was less than even the prisoners in the gladiatorial circuit.  And they shared literal blood.

Clicking his own leash onto the collar, Shiro handed the end of the tether to the person intended to be his servant.  They probably would be escorted to their destination by Galra soldiers, but he hoped his feelings weren’t lost in translation.  If the two were stuck together, mutual trust would be a nice thing to have.  It would be a change from everything else, that was for sure.


	4. Back on Edge

Shiro never saw so much damn food in one place.  Certainly not when he was at the garrison and not even at the celebration before the Kerberos Mission.  Meals were never to this scale.  Hot carved meat piled so high that it blocked his line of vision, and platters overflowing with edible plants in more colors than the human eye could see.  Although they weren’t close to the dessert table yet, he was going to pay it a visit for sure.  Everything else hurt, so he might as well give himself a stomache.

After one plate was full, he handed it to Bolide and filled another.  None of it was familiar, per se.  He just likened whatever he saw to food at home, while hoping that nothing was deadly for humans.

Shrimp that had a bit too much chew, and steaks that were the truest black in existence.  Pork chops so small he could take a whole dozen, and they were only as big as a pile of green beans.  The universe loved its fungi across planets and galaxies which meant an entire table alone was dedicated to them.  He bypassed most of the vegetables, only because they were the majority of his meals in the cell.  The fruit was still welcomed, though.

By the time Shiro finished picking over the buffet, Bolide was carrying two of his five plates along with the end of his leash.

The pair settled down at an empty table within the lavish dining room.  It was far from the headache-inducing pink and purple lights, and floor to ceiling windows looked out into open space.  Shiro was content to stare out into the abyss while he ate.  Yet Bolide watched the other diners instead.  On either side of them, Galra soldiers flanked them.  Not surprising since good hospitality didn’t make Shiro any less of a prisoner, just a better dressed and fed one.

When he did tear his eyes away from the passing planets and distant stars, he realized a fair amount of the staff and guests were watching him.  Aliens glanced in his direction between bites, and some would talk behind their hands or tentacles, side-eyeing him the whole time.  No one was bold enough to outright stare.  They were careful to avoid meeting his gaze once he looked over.

Bolide nudged him with their foot under the table and likewise kept their hands out of sight too.  Pointing up towards a distant wall.  It never occurred to Shiro that there would be box seating over a dining room, but there it was.

All the boxes were occupied by Galra officials although, from where he sat, it was difficult to pick out faces.  He also didn’t see Commander Sendak, who couldn’t be easily missed because of his arm.  Staff dressed in uniforms like his own were at every table, and they filled glass after glass with liquor.  With strict discipline being prevalent in Galra society, the contrast was almost surreal.

He was about to ask Bolide what spooked them in particular before he saw the figure they focused on.

Sitting alone with a regal posture was a notable exception to the officers.  She was still a Galra, of course, but she looked to be more related to the mysterious Druids than others he saw on a daily basis.  Lacking the white hair, her black mane was just as long.  She wore a crown of raw-cut crystals, and her dress shimmered with the same energy.  The sight made his eyes blur.

Bolide elbowed Shiro when he stared for too long, and he went straight back to finishing his meal.  “Sorry.  Did you want any more?”

They smiled at him and shook their head.  They already ate their weight in glowing mushrooms, judging by all the leftover stems, and he wondered if it was a delicacy on Bolide’s home planet.  The fungus was the same blue color as their eyes and mouth anyway.

“One of these days, we’re going to sit down and have you teach me some of your language.  Because I have so many questions.”  Like how they understood him but never talked to him.  Was it because they physically couldn’t, or was it another game?

They made a vague gesture, getting that smug look in their eyes, which Shiro translated as an “Eh, maybe.”

“Thanks a lot.”

They laughed again and leaned against him.  Then their eyes narrowed, and they pulled his leash hard, bringing Shiro under the ledge of the table.  A blade whizzed overhead and lodged itself in a Galra soldier’s chest.  They were standing right beside him.  If Bolide wasn’t so aware, the throwing knife would’ve left him a nasty scar over his left ear.  Might even have taken it clean off.

The Galra pulled them both up from under the table and hastily began leading them back to his quarters.  Another small troop of soldiers were struggling with the would-be assassin, forcing them to the ground.  Laser rifles aimed at the back of their head.  Seeing their face or physical features wasn’t possible, but Shiro was sure he saw the deep red of a brothel uniform.  Were they an actual employee, or posing as one?  He doubted anyone would give him details.

The concern over his wellbeing as the Champion was an interesting case.  Before Madame Renaud was given custody of him, he was kept in his cell for hours on end.  Food and water given every day, twice a day, and he had a bed and a latrine.  A shower every other day.  The real curious part was that his guards were there to protect him as much as they were to restrain him outside of the arena.  Perks of being an undefeated gladiator, he supposed.

No one wanted to see the best of the best get cut down without an audience.

When they returned to Shiro’s room, two soldiers entered first.  All those present knew better than to assume no one could hide in such a small space.   These were alien races, after all, and plenty of them could camouflage themselves just long enough to get in a kill.  If they knew their craft well, they could disappear again as quick.

After an all-clear, both Shiro and Bolide were shoved inside, and the hatch sealed and locked with no further explanation.  Frustrating as always, but the mattered was getting settled.  If this went the way he thought it was going to, he would see the guilty party in the next arena.  Wouldn’t be the first time he saw it happen.

“We didn’t even get to try one of those frilly cakes,” Shiro said with a sigh.  “That was what I was looking forward to more than anything.”

He sat down and saw the empty liquor bottle was replaced with a new one.  A courtesy of housekeeping, but he was too wary to try it.  Knife-throwing wasn’t too far off from poisoning, and the color already reminded him of antifreeze.  The velvet box was still there too.

Under it, he saw a black envelope hiding in the shadows.

Shiro’s first assumption was that Madame Renaud was the sender.  He did more or less “hang up” on her earlier that morning, and a letter was an elegant way to put an argument to rest.  The color scheme was off, though.  Too much black and pink, not enough red and bronze.

Bolide didn’t leave the doorway, choosing to sit and watch him with those big eyes of theirs.  If neither of them sensed any danger, he saw no harm in giving the letter a read.

The paper was thick and oddly smooth to the touch, like it was made from fabric.  It was also black like the envelope and  written in pink ink.  He didn’t know every nuance of the Galra language, but the writing was in a style preferred by the elite ranks.  It made reading it harder but not impossible.  Of course it would be addressed to the Champion, rather than his name.

“After current events, I hope that this letter finds you well.  It was brought to my attention this morning that you and my mate shared a rut.  Although I am not displeased, my hand was forced by tradition to call for an attempt on your life.  One which I am certain has failed, or I would not be writing this letter.”

Shiro wasn’t sure what made his eyebrows raise higher.  The fact that this person was so blase about the assassination attempt, or the idea that Sendak had a _mate._  For that matter, did the author of the letter need to call what happened the night before a rut of all things?

“I propose that we meet, so proper arrangements are made.  I doubt you know much about Galra ritual.  I am more than willing to teach you.

“A meeting is scheduled for this evening, with the madame’s blessing.  Leave the Night Wailer at home. - Z.”

He blinked at the last order.  It was clear that it was scrawled with a heavier hand than the rest of the letter.  Punctuated so hard that the material it was on had a dent in it.  Not the most reassuring thing to see when Shiro was meeting this person later in the evening.  Of course, the half-assed attempt on his life wasn’t too comforting either.

“So the Galra call you a ‘Night Wailer?’” he asked Bolide.  “There a reason for that, or is it like how they call humans ‘Altean Monkeys?’”

Whatever an ‘Altean’ was.

Bolide bared their teeth and shook their head.  They came over to join him and took the letter.  They read it as well, and then they made a sound caught between a growl and a shriek.  Shiro assumed it was a sign they were angry, but they didn’t snap at him.  They just returned the letter with a huff.  They weren’t mad at him for asking at least.

“You don’t have to stay in here the whole time if you don’t want to,” Shiro assured them.  “I’m sure you have other places you’d rather be.”

They shook their head and climbed up the bed curtains.  They weren’t slow on two feet, but they were much quicker when scaling the fabric.  Soon Bolide disappeared into the canopy.  After settling in, there was a clear dip in the folds where they were resting.

That was the end of the conversation.  Just as well since he wasn’t sure what else to say until they calmed down.  That and, as sore as he was, breakfast made it clear he couldn’t be lax about training even here.  Better to undress out of his one good outfit and start with the basics, occupy his mind with keeping track of reps.

With any luck, he would have a shower before this meeting.


	5. Honored Traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Special shout out to voyageafterhour on tumblr and their images of Shiro played with by disembodied Galra hands for inspiring this chapter!
> 
> Specific Warnings for This Chapter:  
> Alien and Human Sex  
> Alien Pussy  
> Daddy Talk  
> Face Sitting  
> Forced Orgasms  
> Gang Rape  
> Group Sex  
> Oral Fixation  
> Sex in Public

For assuming that his modesty was long gone, Shiro was at a loss for words when he arrived to the supposed meeting place.  Nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and his collar to greet Z, and he needed to search through an entire public bath to find them.  As if that wasn’t uncomfortable enough, the water was too hot.  Not near boiling, but going in much deeper than his mid-thigh was daunting.

About the only thing that made him feel less exposed was his accompaniment of guards.  After the dining room incident, they upped their security.  Heavier armor and bigger guns surrounded Shiro and hid him from the average passer by.  They kept their visors pointed in the direction of the other bathers.  It was as close to anonymity as he was going to get.

The bathing complex itself was bigger than he expected.  Lower ceilings than the dining hall, and mirrors- because of course there would be mirrors- replaced the windows looking out over space.  They made the baths look twice as big, and they were already as long and wide as an Olympic pool.  If given a chance, he would swim laps.

Best of all, the lighting was forgiving here as well, and the gentle blue gave Shiro’s eyes a much needed rest.  The nagging headache started to disappear.

As the soldiers led him around and between the bathing pools, Shiro scanned the faces of the aliens they passed.  Quite a few looked like they were there out of necessity, rather than relaxation.  Fish-like scales, amphibian mouths, and visible gills were among the most common traits for these patrons, and they congregated with each other in a single pool.  They didn’t even glance in his direction.

The aliens that did notice him were the staff, who offered only half-hearted smiles.  Although they weren’t in the full body suit of the employees who worked elsewhere, their sarongs were in the same colors.  They brought towels and drinks to the bathers, and he watched them carry buckets filled with soaps, lotions, and other necessities.  A couple of ladies were helping wash the back of an alien too large for their small arms to reach around.  From across the baths, it looked like they had to use giant brooms to scrub between its scales.

Shiro was so busy taking in the whole picture that he almost ran right into the soldiers when they stopped.

Lounging in a round, bubbling bath all to themselves were four Galra lady nobles, with a single waiting attendant each.  They sat in a circle while their arms rested outside the tub.  Their yellow eyes looked even brighter in the dim lighting, and when the guards stepped aside, every one of them let their gaze wander down and then back up Shiro’s form.  Likewise, they all stared at the towel around his waist as if it was a silent order for him to discard it.

The tallest among them dismissed the guards without a word, and despite her lack of finery, Shiro recognized her from the dining hall.  She had the same long black hair, and she carried herself like a member of royalty.  She smirked at him in a distinctly Galra way, beckoning him with a clawed finger.  When he didn’t move fast enough for her liking, two of her companions were more than happy to speed things along.

They pulled hard after they snatched his ankles out from under him and yanked him into the bath.  The towel flew into the air before he hit the water.  His head missed the tiles by mere inches.  When he came back up, he gasped for air and coughed.  His whole body felt like it was on fire.

“Not your most grand entrance, I’ll admit.”  The other Galra laughed with their leader.  “I must say, though, Champion… there was no reason to be shy.”

She ran her paw pads over his chest and down, stopping just short of his groin.  Her fangs peeked out from her full upper lip while her eyes widened.  The other three women leaned forward to have a better look themselves although they didn’t touch him.  Shiro was sure one of them licked their lips.  He didn’t doubt they could eat him alive, and would.

“Grand Duchess Zara, of the eighth branch to Emperor’s Zarkon, and the chosen mate of loyal Commander Sendak.”  She introduced the other three as well.  “Sennar is his second mate, Demar his third, and Temma is his fourth.  They carry no titles.

“Perhaps you will be his fifth, who can say?”

Zara watched Shiro’s face for a reaction.  She understood that was a lot of information to process, and she was patient enough to wait out the confusion.  Her question was the sticking point.  She raised an eyebrow as all the color washed out of his face.

“Sit with me, Champion.”  She offered the seat next to her with casual elegance.  Her red claws glittered in the light, and they grazed his skin as he obeyed her.  “I promised that I would explain, but there’s no reason you shouldn’t rest while you’re here.”

Her voice was less ragged than the Galra soldiers, and her tone was unreadable.  Zara was as muscular as her mate, yet she carried it in her legs rather than her arms and shoulders.  Her fur was also less thick, her ears smaller and more like an elf’s.  Even though the Galra hid their battle scars well, she wore a thick scar across the bridge of her nose which her fur couldn’t hide.  One identical to the scars of the other three mates.

Shiro swallowed the thought of what Sendak might plan for him if things went on like this.

Deferring to his chosen mate, all three of the others kept their manes cut short.  Sennar, whose claws were black, was not much smaller than Zara, and she carried her head just as high.  Demar was not as muscular as either of them, and she braided and decorated her mane with dark purple beads that matched her claws.  The last and smallest of all, Temma, toyed with her curls.  She bit her lip while still taking in the sight of him.

Aside from slight differences, they didn’t look much separate from their male counterparts.  Shiro also noticed they weren’t reptilian in any way, like some Galra he’d seen during his time as a prisoner, but he didn’t know what that meant.  Maybe there wasn’t any rhyme or reason to it.

Zara speaking to him again was actually a relief.  It was easier to focus on her than try and keep an eye on all four of them put together.  Shiro didn’t think the others would do anything unless she decided on it.  Not the ace he wanted, but he took it.

“The madame wasn’t pleased about the attempt on your life.  I didn’t expect her to understand, but you were in no real danger.”  Zara scoffed.  “His aim was terrible.  I’m sure he won’t be the surprise you turned out to be in the arena.”

“You mentioned there was a tradition?” Shiro asked.  His voice almost cracked, since this was the first time he spoke.  “Did you have to do that with everyone else here?”

Demar laughed behind her paw.

“I did.  Although with Sennar, there was more than one attempt.”  As if any explanation would make sense to a human, she clarified.  “The second mate always has the hardest time.  I still felt entitled enough to think I would be Sendak’s only bride.  Me, a daughter of the _eighth_ branch, mind you.”

“I was flattered, your ladyship,” Sennar said.  “Those months leading up to our union were the most exhilarating days of my life.  I am still grateful to you.”

“Thank you, my dear.  In any case, there were others who weren’t so skilled at staying alive, but that is what the tradition is for.”  The others nodded in agreement.  “No one can call themselves a mate until they are willing to fight for their own future.”

The Galra were more insane than Shiro thought.

“And what about you then?” he needled Zara.  “What was your trial when you were the ‘chosen’ mate?”

She motioned for her attendant to pour drinks for everyone.  “It was Sendak who fought for _me._  My breeding is the only trial necessary, which would be a disappointment if my family wasn’t so busy trying to kill one another.  They keep me on my toes plenty.”

The liquor of choice for the evening was a black, syrupy liquid.  Like the neon yellow stuff, it went down hard, but it cleared Shiro’s head more than the alcohol on earth.  He wasn’t sure whether that was a blessing or a curse for the conversation.

After drinking half of her glass in one go, Zara gave him a second slow look up and down.  “But we’re getting off track.”

“There’s more to your trial,”  Sennar agreed.  “Because you did the unthinkable.”

“Not that you knew it at the time,” Demar added.

Temma said nothing but nodded.

The knot in Shiro’s gut was a fist around his insides.  What kind of bullshit were they going to pull on him?  The way they kept stealing an eyeful was blatant, and he had an idea where this was headed.  Nevermind that he was still exhausted from the night before.  Mouthiness aside, he wasn’t the one who started anything, and he definitely didn’t start this either.

“You want to take this up with the one who wronged you?  Talk to Sendak.”  His shoulders were tensing, and his legs drew upwards.  “I’m not here for your entertainment.”

“You are a gladiator.  Entertainment is the only reason you haven’t been sent to the mines, or worse,” Zara said.  “You are strong, but not stronger than me or my sisters.”

Shiro determined that he was.  They did get a hold of him, but he was ready this time.  He fought back.  His nails weren’t claws.  They still dug through the thin layer of fur, and even when they didn’t, he held them back.  That was before they finally swarmed him.  He kept fighting.

Biting and kicking, he managed to keep the Galra off until they were as breathless as he was.  Not easy to do when pitted against four aliens.  Zara pinned him from above, and her smirk had widened into a wild grin.  Her entire weight was on him while she held his wrists above his head.  Her claws dug into his skin.

“A fair attempt, Champion.”  Both of them were shaking from strain.  “But I’ve won this match, and I aim to have my reward.”

The position she put them in upon her victory wasn’t inspired, but she worked him up further.  Waist-deep in the water, she rolled Zara hips with his hardened cock nestled between her legs.  Her nether lips worked around him, edging ever closer to having his tip inside her.  When the time finally came, she leaned in to give him a lingering kiss.  All but purring as she took his cock right down to the hilt.

Ridges like Sendak’s lined her inner walls, and Shiro bit her lip in a last ditch effort to get Zara off of him.  What he felt wasn’t pain, but it sure as hell wasn’t good.  Locking him into place and keeping her right on top of him.  Exactly where she wanted to be.

Zara started grinding her lower body against his, while licking the blood off her lip.  Her yellow eyes were heavy-lidded with lust.  “I’m curious about how long you’ll last, being used like this.” She let go of his wrists and ran her claws through his hair.  “Such a pretty boy, even when you’re not covered in blood.”

“Is that your idea of a compliment?”

Shiro braced himself and tried to push her off.  Her pussy held onto him, the ridges digging into the head of his cock until he stopped fighting.  She threw her head back and laughed.  Sitting up on his lap, she swiveled her hips, and her slick walls clenched tight around him.  He swore and dug his fingernails into her thighs.  Anything to keep him from begging her to just _stop._

Sendak’s chosen mate was more sadistic than carnal, and he didn’t know which was worse.  Being fucked like an animal or used like a toy.

Zara pushed his shoulders back and against the side of the bath.  Her claws fit neatly into the wounds Sendak left behind the night before, and she dug them in.  She kept them there after he started to bleed again.

“Just a little more, Champion,” she said.  “You’re getting so close, aren’t you?”

Her smirk became a devious grin that showed her white fangs.  She rode Shiro even harder.  Bucked her hips and picked up the pace.  Her long hair fell forward and into his face as she leaned over him.  Moaning and praising gods whose names he couldn’t begin to pronounce, that the Druids never called upon, she climaxed.

Shiro’s body couldn’t hold out.  Taking the path of least resistance, he thrust upward and deep inside her.  His cock ached, and he groaned when he came.  His own fluids warm and familiar even if nothing else was.  Although he was disgusted with himself, Zara’s grip on his sheath lessened.  Her purring was louder, and her death-like hold of his shoulders was gone too.  Was she finally sated?

“Less than what I expected.  Still, I can see why my mate would take a fancy to you.”

She lifted herself off of him.  Shiro still felt the ridges glide over him, but the cum lining her inner walls eased the pain that was there before.  He looked away when she reached down between her thighs and then brought the milky white seed to her lips.  Licking her paws clean.

The other three Galra edged closer to him, and Shiro tensed.  Eyes widening and heart pounding like a cornered gazelle.  They looked like a group of lionesses ready to spring on their weakened prey.  None of them dared to utter a word while Zara took her time with him, but he didn’t doubt they were watching.  Keen for their turn to start at any moment.

Sennar was on him first, pulling him up out of the water with a single paw wrapped around his arm.  She left him on the tile and stood on his wrist to keep him there.  Demar and Temma crawled up out of the water after them, and they slinked alongside him.  Eyeing Shiro’s vulnerable lower region while kissing up his thighs.

They moved in tandem.  When Temma gripped his balls, Demar started to work his shaft.  All the while, they kept eye contact with only him.  The same lust-ridden gaze Zara gave him only moments before.  When he was hard again, they closed their eyes.  Running their rough tongues over him, they took turns wrapping their whole mouths around his entire length.

Every time they deep-throated him, their purring sent shivers up his spine.

After her sister-wives started, Sennar crouched down next to him and held down both his arms.  Her own wet pussy was so close that he couldn’t stop breathing in her scent.  “You look so hopeful,” she teased.  “I would give you a taste, but you aren’t well-behaved.  Isn’t that why our mate put a muzzle on you~?”

Oh, such a shame that he wouldn’t be able to have any part of that.

Rather than ridges that pulled him in deeper and prevent escape, Shiro’s biggest concern was the feeling of fangs and canines around his sheath.  Demar was the one sucking him off, and she worked her tongue up and down the underside of his cock.  Temma’s paw stroked whatever couldn’t fit into her sister’s mouth, and she peppered kisses across his chest.  Moaning with want when Demar reached across his thighs to play with her.

The sound of wet, sloppy fingering wrenched Shiro’s thoughts back to the secret rendezvous in the girls quarters at the garrison.  The way the senior girls liked to team up on a freshman for their own amusement rather than genuine interest.  Making bets before the boys even got there, on which ones would last the longest and who would cum much too early.  It never happened to him, but that was because he was more interested in the boys themselves.

Shiro liked watching them getting all worked up over nothing.

Sennar brought him back to disgusting reality.  She was playing with herself with one paw, and she caressed his cheek with the soft back of her other paw.  Demar’s tongue swirled around the head of his cock, and he moaned.  Sennar snaked her fingers into his mouth, nearly making him gag in surprise.  She bit her lip while watching him squirm.

“Your tongue feels nice,” she said.  “Next time, we’ll have to think of something, so we can all enjoy it.”

Demar slowly rose up from her position down below his waist.  She looked thoughtful for a moment and moved up to straddle Shiro’s broad chest.  Her fingers slipped in next to the ones already crowding his mouth, and she smirked down at him.  “I can keep him still, Sennar.  You shouldn’t have to wait.”

Shiro tried to bite them both, but Demar’s firm grip made it impossible to close his jaw.  Both of the Galra laughed at his attempt.

“I’ll make good use of him, sister,” Sennar agreed.  “You’re a treasure.”

Sennar lowered herself over him until she was almost sitting on his face.  Her pussy was wet and smelled sickly sweet.  When he refused to indulge her, she reached behind to get a fistful of his hair.  “Be a good boy now,” she said.  “Temma’s going to make you feel even better soon.”

He forgot all about the smallest of the Galra, but he felt her positioning herself over his cock.  She held it by the base of his sheath, and every so slowly, she guided Shiro inside her.  The feeling was different from when he was inside of Zara.  Just as wet and still ribbed with the same ridges, but she was riding him in reverse.  His cock twitched with stubborn biological need, and he groaned as she shifted her hips to take him all in.

Which meant his tongue slid over Sennar’s slick folds, and he unwittingly began to eat her out.  Nose buried in her pussy while Demar held his mouth open.  She tasted just as sweet as her scent, which made him dizzy and half-delirious.  Soon, he was licking her on his own and trying to get more of that intoxicating favor on his tongue.

“Mmm, I told you that it would be nice.”

Demar sought her own pleasure by running her body over his.  She didn’t let go of him, in case he did try and bite, but she did pleasure herself over his chiseled abs.  Her wetness was warm on his skin, and she worked herself up into a fervor.  Her cries cut short after Sennar kissed her, and the two mates began to tease one another’s clits.

Sennar herself came after Demar found a weak spot with her crooked fingers.  She squirted on his face.  Shiro pulled back from Sennar’s snatch to catch his breath and get away, muttering curses to himself.  This was complete madness, and he only wanted it to end.

His hips rolled forward, pushing his cock further up into Temma’s eager pussy to please her too.  She cried out in surprise, and her walls started to milk him.  She begged him to cum, the first she’d spoken all through the ordeal.  She sounded breathless and wanting.

“Please, fill me up,” she whimpered.  “I’m being so good, Daddy…~  Won’t you be good to me too?”

That plea was what tipped him over the edge.  His fingers curled on the cold tile behind his head, and his head fell back.  The second orgasm was intense and also a relief.  Shiro filled the young Galra still riding his cock with a few bucks of his hips towards hers.  She repaid him in kind and stayed there for a short time to catch her breath.

The four of them lay there together to regain their senses.  The Galra nuzzled him and tried to groom him with gentle pets and licks over his neck, arms, and chest.  He felt numb.

The bathhouse felt like it was spinning, and the only thing that told Shiro which direction was up were slick tiles against his back.  He closed his eyes to stop the spinning.  When he opened them again, all three of the Galra were off of him and leaving the scene with their attendants following behind.  No doubt they were going to clean off from the encounter after being so thoroughly pleased with themselves.

Zara stayed behind.

Her own attendant was busy washing her mistress’s long hair, and they kept their eyes on the task at hand.  Zara herself kept her gaze on Shiro the whole time it took him to sit up.  It would be a while before he could find his legs again, and the only hope he had to get clean was to slide back into the bath in front of him.  This time, though, he stayed on the opposite side and out of her immediate reach.

“I would say that you passed your second trial, Champion.”

“Would you?”  Shiro glared at her.  “Any other ‘trials’ you want to throw at me while we’re here?  No point in drawing it out anymore than you have to.”

She snickered and tilted her head back.  The attendant scrubbed along her hairline before pouring fresh water over her face.  She looked almost serene while being pampered.  After her mane was thoroughly rinsed, she instructed them to see to Shiro’s hair as well.

He didn’t fight the attendant.  He was desperate to feel somewhat clean.  Besides, the sides needed a fresh shave and the top trimmed.  If they were good enough for royal haircare, he would trust them.  Turned out they were gentle.

“No, the next trial is for Sendak.  He didn’t discuss his plans for you with us, and that was his disgrace.”  Zara crossed her legs and drummed her claws on her knee.  “I do wonder if he will mark you as his own.  I mean to ask him.”

She was oddly forthcoming.  It all rang hollow in Shiro’s ears, but he tried to listen.  Just in case it wasn’t all bullshit babbled in an after-sex haze.

“Then again, perhaps _you_ are the better one to ask,” Zara went on.  “The Druids are already interested in you, and Sendak was one of their greatest accomplishments.  He could put in a good word and attest to your tenacity outside of the arena.”

“Because I want them to be interested in me?”

She considered Shiro with a long, calculated look.  Her expression wasn’t playful or sinister, but she was deep in thought.  The attendant continued to wash his hair in silence.  By the time they finished, Zara came to a decision about how to answer.  She chose her words with care.

“The Druids are the only ones who have any hope of making you into more than what you are.  They can mold you into someone suited to the Galra ideal, a true warrior,” she explained.  “If you ever want to make it out of the gladiator’s sport, you will take any opportunity to win their favor.

"Even if it means turning your back on everything and everyone you dared to believe in."


	6. Thrill of the Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Specific Warnings for This Chapter:
> 
> Blood and Gore  
> Blood Sports  
> Major Injury  
> Minor Character Death  
> Multiple Character Deaths  
> Nightmare Fuel (?)  
> Ruthless Tactics

Returning to the arena was a harder adjustment than Shiro would’ve thought.  He was used to the endless grinding, metal-on-metal gear-based systems.  They moved prisoner cages, lifted barred doors, and opened beast hatches.  Likewise, there was the smell of “grease, blood, and piss” as another gladiator once put it before they were slaughtered that same day.  Both of those things Shiro remembered, but he forgot a few other aspects of the combatant’s life.

Like how it felt to wear prisoner rags rather than clothes so soft to the touch that they might as well be silk.  His combat boots were rocks strapped to either foot in contrast to the brothel slippers.  The massive Galra sword in his hand was almost too heavy, and he gripped it with sweating palms.  It wouldn’t be his only weapon, but this was how the matches started.

The gladiators were released into the arena at the same time for the first round.  As soon as their cages opened, the grounds became a ten minute free-for-all.  The object was either to survive long enough to make it to the second round or pick off everyone that you could before then.  Because the less people you had to fight through, the better your chances of living at the end of the night.  That strategy was all too common among the seasoned veterans.

Shiro adopted it himself after enough close-calls.

Until the bloodbath started, he crouched down to look over the edge of his cage floor.  The arena was a long ways below, but he could make out the larger rock formations.  Good defense for a melee, but there wasn’t a lot of ground cover in this particular arena.  No long grass and definitely no water or trees, which meant he wouldn’t be easily cornered.  Then again, his enemies had the same advantage.

Most of the time, Shiro didn’t bother paying attention to the crowd, yet he certainly was while putting together his strategy.

Even from that distance, his mind went blank when he spotted the cracking quintessence.  Sendak’s arm.  Which meant he was going to watch.   Worse yet, Zara and the other mates might also be spectating.  He didn’t see them before, but it was possible he just overlooked them.  Sendak had his full attention that night, after all.

Following a sharp jerk and the squeal of moving metal parts, the cages started to descend.  Shiro got to his feet and readied his weapon.  It was time to begin.

It was only when they were surrounded by the lights of the stadium that Shiro saw his fellow gladiators for this particular event.  None of them were people he recognized.  Some reminded him of people he knew although he squashed any thoughts he might have about them.  He couldn’t hold back unless he wanted to lose.  Losing at this point meant death.

The cages hit the ground all at once, and the doors opened.  An alarm sounded overhead to thunderous applause.  The fight was on.

Shiro hit the ground running, bellowing out a warrior’s cry and swinging his blade toward the nearest target.  The bloodspray splattered across his eyes, and an alien slumped down onto their knees and over.  His first kill of the day.  The crowd’s cheers were deafening, or maybe that was the sound of battle.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched another sword nearly take off his right arm at the shoulder.  He dodged but not before it sliced through part of his tricep.  Shiro seethed in pain.  Putting all his weight behind the two-handed swing, he returned the favor by taking out a set of toe-walking legs.  His own sword sank into the hard dirt, and he was left open to attack.

Getting behind the blade, he wrenched it free.  Just in time to block a third attempt on his life which made his heels dig in.  This alien was much taller and heavier than him, and their tusk was broken open, blood spilling out of their mouth.  Their swords locked together, and sparks flew over them both.  Rather than stay in deadlock, they stopped pushing.  Then charged one another again.

Shiro aimed low and swept his blade and himself under the giant’s swing.  His weapon buried itself in their gut.  After they fell, he took their sword instead.  There was no attachment to such any of these crude tools.

He bludgeoned his way through the rest of his foes with little pause.  His teeth ground together, and the only release he had was screaming in a survival-fueled rage.  Kill, and live.  Hold back, and die.  Injury wasn’t enough because they could always come back.  Maybe not in this arena but somewhere in the galaxy.

They wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass if they were dead.

Another alarm, this one higher in pitch, brought the first foray to an end.  The collars around the prisoners’ necks shocked anyone who was still in motion when the round was over, so they became unnaturally still.  Glancing up to one of the holo screens over the crowds, Shiro saw his face and his title splashed at the top of the list of standing gladiators.  In ten minutes, he dropped eight other warriors.  No injured listed, just eight confirmed kills.

“First round goes to the Champion!” the announcer declared.  “Glory to the Galra Empire, blood for Emperor Zarkon!”

The crowd echoed the chant in unison, and Shiro felt sick to his stomach.  Happy to be alive but disgusted.  The feeling wasn’t all that different from when Sendak came into his room or after Zara and the others toyed with him.  He felt empty other than the anger bubbling up in his gut and making his heart burn.  If he could shout loud enough to make everything else quiet, he would.

“Four to advancement.  Round Two will begin after the arena has been cleared.”

The remaining gladiators were lifted off the ground, in the only cages still there.  The grisly massacre was all too sickening from above, and Shiro swallowed his own bile when looking at it.  Blood of all colors spilled, as well as what could only be organs.  The stink rose up when other prisoners came to clean up the bodies and throw dirt over whatever couldn’t be dragged away.  He counted every corpse.  Forty-six dead in all, and only four of them remained standing.

Glancing to his left, one of his fellow survivors was clutching at a deep wound across their thigh.  They wore robes rather than a bodysuit, and the top of their head was actually a mass of tentacles which spilled down their back.  Through a tube connected to a tank under one arm, they sucked in a liquid with labored breaths.  Shiro doubted they would make it to the finals.

He also prayed to whatever god might hear him that he wouldn’t need to strike the last blow.  Being undefeated in the ring didn’t always mean he walked away from a fair fight.  Plenty of times, he wondered why he wasn’t called the Mercy Killer instead.  The Galra had a word for mercy.  They just didn’t use it often, and usually it was a word saved for talking down to prisoners.

The other two aliens were the same race.  Looking at the holo board, Shiro read their short profiles, and it dawned on him that they shared a family name.  At the bottom, both descriptions confirmed they were sisters.  Their pictures stared down at him with green eyes set in black sockets.  Sporting long and pointed snouts, the sisters looked like rodents or weasels back home, but their skin was glossy like amphibians.

“Alright, citizens of the Empire, we’re ready for Round Two!  Our beloved Champion will fight not one opponent but  _ two.  _  Please welcome the Savvy Sisters!”

The cages descended once more, and in the center of where they came to rest, three different weapons were laid out.  A new sword, a laser rifle, and a mace.  Every one of them eyed the rifle, and as soon as they were set free, they made a mad grab for it.

Shiro managed to overpower one of them, but just when his hand brushed the stock of the rifle, it was snatched away from him.  His palm was nearly cut by the sword, but he managed to grab hold of it by the hilt.  The sister he tackled threw him off her back and onto the ground.  She was sporting a head wound from the first match.

“Stay out of the way for now, Nifyri.”  A laser round almost caught him in the shoulder.  “We’ll make it through this!”

“I’m fine, Gehella.”

It was a risky move, potentially losing him the only weapon he had, but Shiro kept an eye on the rifle barrel as he ran for cover.  When Gehella fired at him again, he let the sword take the shot.  It did exactly what he hoped, reflecting the energy.  Even if he couldn’t control where the energy went, it wasn’t plasma he was up against.  Gun or not, he was given a chance.

Both sisters lost sight of him after he reached a rock formation in the upper left of the arena.  It wasn’t a place to hide so much as he could get to higher ground.  Draw enough fire, and the rifle would be out of ammo.  Gehella was too busy keeping her sister alive to pay attention, or that was he figured.  Two against one only mattered if it was a fight with every man for himself.

Shiro peered around the corner of the red-rock, and it was met with another bolt glancing off stone.  “You can’t hide from me, human!”

Don’t talk to the enemy, he told himself.  He got low instead and started to round the formation, and picking up a small shard, he tossed it to the opposite side.  A basic distraction, and he doubted either of them would fall for it.  Then he waited.

“Nice try!”

Nifyri appeared behind him, but armed with a mace, her speed was less than his.  Her weapon came down on his left shoulder.  His sword found its home in her neck.

Her scream deafened him.  It was just like in the horror movies, high-pitched and piercing, but it ended in the worst way.  In the movies, there was sudden silence.  In the arena, her screams were choked out by the blood in her throat, and she gurgled.  Spitting up the clotting, blue blood.

Gehella cried out her sister’s name.  Shiro could hear her coming, and he hastily drew his sword from Nifyri’s neck. She was still conscious and coughing up more of her own fluids.  It wouldn’t be much longer.

When his second opponent reached them, Gehella fired wildly.  Some of her shots almost hit her sister in the fray, and judging by the tears, she wasn’t seeing very well.  Shiro, however, could see and blocked whatever he couldn’t dodge.  He realized what was coming before she did.

Her cartridge emptied at an alarming rate.  She beat on the stock and cursed at it, thinking the junker jammed on her.  All the while she sobbed and tore her eyes away from Nifyri’s corpse.

The mace was lying in the open.  Shiro didn’t take it with him, so when the time came for them to fight one on one, she wouldn’t be unarmed.  Gehella had no interest in it.

“Just kill me if you’re going to,” she said.  “Everything is over, okay?”

Against his better judgement, Shiro finally spoke up.  “It doesn’t have to be.  You’re still standing, aren’t you?”

Her face contorted into an ugly sneer.  “Nifyri is  _ dead _ , you idiot.”

Gehella walked towards him, still clutching at her useless gun.  She walked with purpose, but she was shaking from her shoulders and all the way down her legs.  She had a tail once, but she lost it in a fight elsewhere.  It was only a scarred stub.

“We were bonded.  I can’t live without her, I just  _ can’t. _ ”  She knelt down in front of him, and Shiro took a step back.  “So kill me, here and now.  If I’m going to die anyway, I want to go out like Nifyri did.  We’re always the same.”

Baring her throat to him, she waited.

In the stands, a new chant was beginning.  It started in the seats closest to the arena floor, and then it built up higher and higher until the entire stadium was chanting.  They pounded in unison, and their bloodlust echoed.  “VIC-TOR-Y.  VIC-TOR-Y.  VIC-TOR-Y.”

“This is really how you want it to end?” Shiro asked.  “Quiet and on your knees?”

“Yes.”

The direct answer caught him off-guard.  His collar started to dig into his skin which was a warning.  Either go through with the kill, or he would be given a vicious shock.  Enough to put them both on their knees and struggling in the dirt.  His sword went up, and the metal points receded back into the leather.

“Close your eyes.”

Shiro knew better than to hold back the force of the blow.  He did once, and he swore never to make the same mistake twice.  The sound of metal meeting flesh was thick and heavy, and mentally he gagged when he heard it.  He watched her head leave her shoulders, only the smallest glimpse, and he turned away.  The crowd stood up and drowned out his horror with their applause.

“And that’s the end of Round Two!  The Champion is once again the unanimous winner!”

His empty gaze fell on Sendak, and it stayed there.  Shiro didn’t really see the commander.  It was more like staring at a shadow or the outline of the massive Galra.  No approval or disappointment, but there was a sense of evaluation.

What “ideal” was he looking for?  If an undefeated gladiator wasn’t enough, how else was he supposed to prove his mettle.  An unhinged bloodied frenzy?

Idly, Shiro licked his own blood off the back of his hand and put on a sneer.  He was surprised by the confidence in his voice.  “I’ve had enough of soft hearts and suicides!  Send down a  _ real _ challenge!  How many times do I have to say it!”

The audience howled in agreement, just as eager for a neck and neck fight.  Enough of petty slaughters and clean kills.  They wanted the thrill of the hunt, a show!

Zara appeared behind Sendak, snaking her arms around his broad shoulders and buried her face in his fur.  Shiro felt her eyes on him the whole time.  She leaned up and whispered in her mate’s ear, but Sendak’s expression gave away nothing.  If he was listening to her at all, he was just as enigmatic with her as he was anyone.  The only sign that he recognized she was there was when he reached up to brush the back of his fingers against her cheek.

His voice carried over the arena.

“Bring out the Asteroid Wraith,” Sendak ordered.  “Let us see how the Champion fares.”

For the first time that day, the crowd became still and quiet.  If Shiro dropped his sword, everyone would hear it.  The only time he ever heard of such a creature was in the hushed whispers of Galra recruits.  Rumor was, that fighting it was a competition among the officers.  A hunt that separated the true warriors from the boot-lickers.  A monster that put fear in the hearts of children and soldiers alike across the universe, regardless of galaxy or even individual planets.

And Shiro was about to meet one face to face, all because of his stupid bravado.

For added effect, the arena lights were dimmed, and a Galra-issued robot strode up to him.  In its hands were three new weapons, but it didn’t make him choose among them.  They were  _ all _ intended for his use in this fight.  They were also military grade.  A rifle, a shotgun, and a pistol, and they were loaded and ready to go.

Looking over the pistol, though, Shiro realized there was only one canister.  His skin grew cold when he realized what the intention was, and he looked into the vacant visor of the robot in front of him.  “I thought the Galra only believe in glory or death.”

“Death comes in many forms,” the android replied.  ”To choose death is not choosing cowardice.  Good luck, sir.”

As it retreated, Shiro steeled himself.  He carried the rifle in his hands, and the shotgun was slung over his back.  The pistol sat on his hip.  His breathing slowed, and he noticed the small clouds forming in front of his face.  The temperature was dropping.  The arena surrounding him was as silent as a churchyard, and he stayed stock-still.  Listening.  When he dared to close his eyes, for just a moment, he heard it.

A slithering in the shadows, snaking along on its belly towards him.

Shiro sprang up right before a wicked black claw tore through his ribcage from the back and out through his chest.  Although the beast only grazed him, the wound felt like hot knives dragged deep across his skin.  Then froze over with ice crystals.  The pain was unlike anything he ever endured up until this fight.

The nightmare screamed.  A redead-esque scream which brought him back to childhood night terrors and human instinct thousands of years older than that.  His finger struggled to find the rifle’s trigger, and he ran to put distance between himself and the horror.  The screaming followed him, close at his heels.

Its clawed hands scraped up the dirt and blood of the arena.  It was the best way to see where the Asteroid Wraith was charging him from.  There was little time to react.  More than once, it caught him unaware and tore through his skin.  Nothing vital, yet it was getting closer.

Shiro didn’t just run, but his shots, even when he was sure they were within range of his target, kept going straight through.  Maybe this was a joke on Sendak’s part, to arm him with useless guns and ammo, but surely there had to be a way.  His eyes shot up to a rocky ledge.

Laser rounds might not do anything to bring down an Asteroid Wraith, but there were many ways to kill a cockroach.  Maybe all he needed was a big enough brick.

“Come on, you bastard…”

They were clear on the opposite side of the arena from where they started, but this outcropping was better suited to Shiro’s needs.  On top of the first ledge, there was another formation. It was an archway which lead to nothing but a small edge between it and a steep fall.  There wasn’t a lot of distance between himself and the gate, and even less room when the slithering creature caught up with him.  Only one well-placed round was going to do it.  If he missed, well, at least he knew what was coming.  It wouldn’t be a bullet to the head.

Pivoting on one foot, Shiro faced the beast.

The nightmare came into sight as it tried to wedge its massive form through the opening.  Like threading a fat string through a small needle.  The wraith had limbs, but other than its arms and their claws, the rest were malformed and hugged too close to its body.  Foul and pot-marked skin barely contained the sickly fat underneath.  It was anyone’s guess how it could move so quickly in spite of itself.  The grizzly maw, with rows upon rows of jagged teeth like an alien shark, was enough to prove how it could grow to such a size.

Shiro aimed for the weakest point in the arch and came close to emptying his rifle’s stock.  The rock crumbled as he hoped it would, but the wraith thrashed, still living.  It was time to switch to his shotgun after he was able to see the  _ thing _ in its entirety.  Not the most dignified way to kill it, maybe not even in line with the Galra sense of glory, but there was no way Shiro was getting any closer to it.  No man to beast brawling even if they wanted to electrocute him for it.

This time, the weapon was more than a light show.  The blasts burned through the rotten flesh, peeling off the layers of fat until the creature howled in genuine pain.  Its mouth snapped closed and then opened again, like it was desperate for air.  The last round went straight down its gullet.

At last, it went still.

The lights stayed dim, and Shiro wondered if the audience was in awe or if they knew what he’d won.  After a long pause, he walked toward the remains.  No sign of life.  He didn’t see any eyes when he was fighting it, but the carcass wasn’t moving.  Its claws were buried it in the rock from its struggle to get free.  The air smelled feted and sick.

Shiro laid his hand on the beast’s side, and sure enough, it was dead.  No signs of life, no pulse or warmth.  A sticky residue clung to its skin, and the feeling was like the fish he used to catch on a camping trip.  He let the corpse be and started his descent down the face of the rock formation.  Leaving both the rifle and the shotgun behind.

He was halfway down the rock face when he realized what a  _ stupid _ idea that was.

He couldn’t see what was happening.  After hearing a loud crack, Shiro thought the structure was falling apart under the weight of the carcass on top of it.  Then he heard the low, clicking hiss of whatever was coming down to get one last bite out of him.  He tried to get close enough to the ground where he wouldn’t break his legs or worse in the fall.

Shrio was almost there, and then the bastard latched onto his injured right arm.  Dagger like teeth, tearing into his skin and down to the muscle, before it started to thrash.  He didn’t even get a look at what was attacking him.  All he could do was reach for the pistol still on his hip.

The single bullet went straight through the monster’s skull, and the momentum took the small demon with it.  Sending the writhing body into the abyss.  Shiro’s best guess was that it was a juvenile.  Whatever the damn thing was, it left him in a serious state.  The only thing that got him to the ground before he passed out was sheer determination.

Dropped onto his knees after the short fall, Shiro’s vision was going black around the edges.  He crawled out from under the shadow of the rock with his heart pounding in his ears.  As the lights came back up, he saw the damage.  His right arm was drenched in blood, and the wound really did look like he tried to wrestle a shark.  He didn’t even hear the fanfare break out before everything went static.

His last thought was too incoherent for him to hold onto, and he slipped away into unconsciousness.


	7. A New Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings Specific for This Chapter:
> 
> Amputation  
> Hospital Setting  
> Needles Mentioned

They took Shiro to the brothel medbay rather than leave him to the care of the arena staff.  The wound severed a lot of nerves and tissue, and he lost a lot of blood in a short amount of time.  Even if they could reach Commander Holt or Matt, he knew their blood types weren’t compatible.  A transfusion was outright impossible.  The medical team were tasked with keeping him stable “by any means necessary.”

Half delirious on alien pain medication, Shiro still managed to groan when he heard the order.  Just like in the movies, he knew that meant agony was following right behind the pain he was already in.  He fought to stay conscious.  The Galra took enough away from him, and he wouldn’t let them get away with anything he didn’t know about.  An oxygen mask?  He could live with it.  Needles in his good arm?  The same happened when the Kerberos Mission turned abduction.

None of the monitors made sense to Shiro.  The numerical system of the Galra Empire was convoluted and had more symbols than their language.  The doctors knew he was watching.

“Nothing to worry about, Champion.  You’re doing _just_ fine.”

“Do you have the antiseptic?”

“Right here, doctor.”

“Good.  We can’t let the infection go any further.”

Shiro wasn’t surprised to hear there was a problem.  The little bastard ripped into a injury that was still healing, and its mouth was probably as foul as its mother’s.  Or whatever the behemoth he killed was.  Thank the gods, saints, or whatever else governed medical science in the empire.  Because they at least knew what to give him to numb the pain to where he felt pressure but little else.

“Try and save the arm if you can,” another doctor spoke up.  “Druid Aris informed me that Druid Haggar will be arriving shortly.  She might even be docking now.”

“With all due respect, we will concern ourselves with her later.”

“Understood.  Now, the forceps...”

Whether it was the shock or the sedatives kicking in, Shiro’s head lulled back as he went under again.  The white lights of the surgery were warm on his face, and his sleep was peaceful.  If he dreamed at all, he felt like he was back at the garrison.  Out in that forsaken desert with the only other pilot that could keep up or even surpass his scores in the flight simulators.  When they came back to base, they spat sand out of their mouths and laughed.

The sequence turned into an afternoon spent in the Holt family’s backyard.  A simple but honest meal of hamburgers and hot dogs, comfort food before a months long journey into space.  A face that was almost like Matt’s but not quite grinned up at him, but the name of who the face belonged to escaped him.

As the room got colder, Shiro woke up remembering nothing.  When he opened his eyes, he didn’t even know where he was at first.  The lights which felt so warm as he went under were too harsh, and the ceiling spun around them.  His left arm draped over a small form nestled at his side.

“Little bird…?”

Although he couldn’t move his head, Shiro glanced over to see Bolide sleeping there.  The rest of the room started to fill in around them.  He was out of surgery and in a recovery unit.  He couldn’t turn to see them, but he could smell flowers throughout the whole green and white room.  He almost laughed.

He was getting _gifts_ now?  Who in this damn universe would send him flowers and get well cards?

A nurse hurried into the room while wearing a scarf around her head and shoulders.  She worked quick and didn’t say a word to him.  From what he could hear, she was changing out his drip, and he tried to ask her what was wrong.  He didn’t hear any alarms that suggested his vitals were dropping.  He felt alert enough for coming out of anesthesia.

The new dosage pushed him right back under.  This time, there were no warm memories, and he swore he was looking at the same room.  Even though everything went dark moments earlier.  What was going…

Opening his eyes again, Shiro shouted, but all he heard was silence.  Head buried between his legs, black hair fanned over his thighs, was Zara.  Her lips wrapped around the head of his cock before slowly swallowing more of his sheath, and her eyes met his.  She only stopped to taunt him.

“I told you I would help you win his favor.”  She licked her lips.  “Shouldn’t you be grateful?”

His reply was also silent.  He felt the words burning the back of his throat, but no matter how many times he said or yelled them, no one heard him.  He couldn’t even hear himself.  He lashed out at her, not realizing before it was too late that he was swiping at her with his right.

Only to have it crushed under Sendak’s immense claw, the sound of snapping bone.

When he opened his eyes, Shiro was coated in sweat.  His chest was heaving, and he felt like he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs.  The oxygen mask felt like another muzzle.  He wasn’t restrained in bed other than medical tubing and wires.  With a great deal of effort, through the drugs and the fear, he looked down to see whatever damage Sendak left to the mess that was already there.

Finding no arm at all.

Was this a hallucination?  Was any of it real?  Shiro tried to close his right hand- which he plainly couldn’t see- but he couldn’t feel it either.  No tightening of tendons or nails digging into his palm.  He felt it in his left when he tried that next.  God, it really was gone.  Sendak crushed it.  No, he lost the damn limb because of a fucking space grub.

“Bolide?”  The name was more like a croak, so he tried again.  “Bolide, where are you?”

“They are on their way, Champion.  Please, lie still.”

Careful not to disturb the machines in his room, Madame Renaud stepped in from the hall.  She was worrying her hands, and Shiro felt her eyes were avoiding the space where his limb was supposed to be.  He couldn’t look either, so he didn’t take any offense.  Focusing on her mask was a good distraction.

He struggled to think of what to ask.  As much as he was fighting against it, the tears threatened to come anyway.  His arm was _gone._  He didn’t know if they took it off at the shoulder, or if they left him with a stub.  Everything from the elbow down at least was missing.

“The Witch will be staying aboard Commander Sendak’s ship to watch your progress,” Madame Renaud said.  “He was quite pleased with your victory against the Asteroid Wraith.”

“Did he know that it wasn’t the only monster there?”

She hesitated and shook her head.  “Only the handlers knew that it was carrying its young into the arena…  They attach themselves to their-”

“Was it the infection?”

Shiro wasn’t interested in the biology of the damn thing.  He wanted to know why his arm couldn’t be saved.  Was it because the alien doctors didn’t know what else they could do for him, or was this another Galra tradition?  Lop of limbs and replace them with technology, until the only piece left was a brain and a few choice organs.

“The doctors didn’t say a word to me about it.  They did not amputate your arm until after Druid Haggar arrived,” Madame Renaud said.  “She oversaw the procedure, and I was assured that you will recover.  With time.”

The quick addition at the end didn’t surprise him.  The madame was one theirs, but she still wasn’t a Galra.  Although the Druids didn’t tell her what they planned on doing with him, they both knew it wasn’t over.  Madame Renaud’s hesitant speech patterns were learned, not anxious habit.

“You are still under my care, and I will see to it that you are given your proper rest.”

“No more playtime in the baths then?” Shiro asked.

She smiled and tried not to laugh.  Of course she knew about what happened.  She arranged it, after all, and he never expected an apology.

“No,” she assured him.  “There will be none of that.  I will make sure the Grand Duchess, and her sister-wives, are informed.  Bolide will also be bringing you your meals until you are well enough to walk the ship.”

“Thank you, madame.”

Bowing her head, she backed out of the small room.  Her jewelry clicked as she went, still too long for the upright half of her body.  She waved to him before leaving down the hall.

Alone in the recovery unit, Shro laid his head back on the poor excuse for a pillow.  He didn’t look to his right.

He wasn’t ready yet even though he knew he was only putting off the inevitable.  He needed to face facts  See how much was left and examine the amputation point, so he knew what he had to work with.  As long as he had a plan, he would be alright.

“Just keep it together, Takashi.”

Hearing his own name did wonders to calm him down.  It wasn’t a technique he was fond of using, but it did the trick when he needed it most.  Although his nerves were frayed, he finally looked at the damage.  His stomach did a flip.  He was proud of not gagging or fainting while he assessed everything.

The amputation was above the elbow, so Shiro got to keep a good share of his upper arm.  With the right prosthetic- one _not_ as big as Sendak’s, just no- he could fight yet.  Regardless of what Haggar had planned for him, he wasn’t disposable.  He could keep clawing his way to the end of whatever obstacle course they were running him through all this time.

Nothing would touch him, no one would get in his way.  It would all come together in the end, and when that day came, he would walk away from everything.  Turn his back on the universe with his head held high... because Takashi Shirogane survived the impossible.


	8. Soldiers Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Specific Warnings for This Chapter:
> 
> Amputee  
> Alien Dick  
> Alien and Human Blood  
> Alien and Human Sex  
> Blood Play  
> Hospital Sex  
> Public Sex  
> Rape/Non-Con  
> Rough Anal Sex

As determined as Shiro was to heal, he was increasingly restless.  The two weeks after amputation were brutal, and it took every ounce of self-control for him to lie in the bed.  He memorized the nurses’ routines just for the chance to be able to get up and walk around the recovery room.  Bolide never tried to stop him, although they did snicker when he tug on his gown without thinking.

They simply watched him from their perch on a supply cabinet.  All their fingers and toes were curled over the edge of the counter like a gargoyle, and their gaze followed him from one wall to the other.  They chittered if he kept at it for too long, or right before a nurse was coming through the hall off-schedule.  Otherwise, they let Shiro do whatever he needed to vent.

How Bolide never assumed he would try to escape, he didn’t know.  Sure, he was still wearing a collar, but plenty of prisoners tried to run while wearing one.  The risk of getting electrocuted was there if the Galra caught you running, but they weren’t omnipresent.  Even the Druids weren’t all-knowing and seeing.  If he was going to run at all, this would be the time and place to do it.  Arm be damned, he had a chance to be free.

The reason Shiro wasn’t taking it was because he was too stubborn.  Too stubborn to run away from what could be the golden opportunity to fight back and strike a blow against the Galra Empire.  Their emperor taught them glory or death, and any alien race could achieve that, even a human.  That thought kept nagging in the back of Shiro’s mind.

“What do you think, Bolide?” he asked.  “You know what I’ve been thinking, don’t you?”

After a short pause to mull over their answer, Bolide agreed with a small grin.  Their obvious glee disappeared when they started to chatter, urging him back into bed.  By the time Shiro was settled in, the scarfed nurse appeared in the doorway.  He didn’t notice before, but most of her body was covered in cloth, right down to the tail she dragged behind her.

“Mr. Champion, I’m sorry for disturbing you, but there is a matter of great importance that I-”

“You don’t have to be so formal.” Not that he sounded much better.  “What’s going on?  Am I being moved to a different unit?”

“Well, yes, soon anyway.  This is about… a visitor.  Not just any visitor, but not one of the Druids either,”  the nurse explained.  “There’s not a lot of people allowed visitation with you, so I don’t know how much more I have to say.”

“Any reason you can’t tell me that it’s Sendak.” Shit.  “Commander Sendak.”

Four black eyes widened as they continued to stare at him.  “Are you that familiar with him?  Most of the staff here won’t even say his title.”

Shiro wasn’t surprised.  The staff here tended to employees and the occasional client from the bordello proper, not prisoners and gladiators.  Greeting an officer of the Galra Empire was a terrifying prospect, and the Druids were interested in him as well.  This was more excitement than any of the nurses and doctors expected in a year’s time, maybe more.

“What does he want?”

The nurse shuffled her feet.  “He wants to give you a ‘consultation,’” she said.  “I don’t know what it means… but he’s been in your predicament.  N-not for the same reason, of course, but well, you’ve seen him.”

Predicament?  Did Sendak not have a choice about his arm either?  The question never occurred to Shiro, probably because the commander was so fond of the prosthetic, but what if it was true.  A shiver ran down his whole body, and Shiro felt himself nod despite his dumbfounded state.

Catching himself, he smiled at the messenger still standing in the middle of his room.  “It doesn’t matter what I say, but he can come in.  Thank you for warning me ahead of time.”

Bowing slightly, the nurse disappeared again, and Shiro looked for Bolide.  They were nowhere in sight, but he felt their presence in the room.  Hiding, no doubt, but there to watch and listen to whatever he missed.  “No matter what happens, don’t come out.  Just stay low.”

The recovery unit was already crammed with the monitors, medicine drips, and cabinets not to mention the privacy curtain and bed.  When Sendak entered, he dwarfed everything else around him.  Towering over the small bed frame, he leaned down further until his paw gripped the metal railing.  His breath was hot on Shiro’s face.

“You’ve started a dangerous new game, Champion.  You didn’t even master the first, but you keep pushing your limits.”

A sneer crossed Sendak’s lips.  He lifted his jagged claws and swung them over the bed.  They closed into a fist in one fluid motion, and he rested the prosthetic limb across Shiro’s legs.  Not pinning him there or crushing his limbs but letting the energy pulse through the metal and into his skin.  The sensation was both hot and cold, and Shiro didn’t know whether his body wanted to sweat or shiver.

“You can’t hope to be given a model of this size and power,” Sendak said.  “The moment they let the quintessence take hold, you would be torn apart.  If my will wasn’t as strong as it is, the same would happen to me.”

“You say that like it could happen at any time.”

Shiro’s eyes stayed fixated on the carving on the back of the metal paw.  For a Galra shield and weapon  the pattern was almost delicate especially in contrast to the rest of Sendak’s armor.  No glaring yellow eyes or blood red paint, just the glow of quintessence against black metal.  Out to kill its host if they ever failed to pay attention to it.

“The witch Haggar has plans for you,” Sendak went on.  “I’m sure you know she took an interest in you from the start, but my report was what swayed her to come here in the end.”

“Do you want me to thank you for getting my arm ripped off?”  Shiro leveled with him.  “Because there were other ways to get the Druids’ attention, I’m sure.”

“She is not just any Druid.  She is the head priestess, the one closest to Emperor Zarkon.”  The commander nearly chuckled.  “Plenty of the other officers like to say he hangs on her every word, but they’re mistaken.”

“Why tell me any of this?”

“Why?”

Despite Sendak’s size and weight, he always seemed to move in ways that Shiro couldn’t predict.  One moment, he was beside the bed.  The next, he was practically in it.  Standing over the end near Shiro’s feet and looming over him with both the red and yellow eye fixated on his face.  Neither of them seemed to breathe, although the reasons weren’t any more different.

“That is the most dangerous question of all, Champion.  I think you know at least some of the answer, but I’ll make it clear to you.”

Holding the weight of his upper body with his left paw, Sendak brought one of his vicious claws nearer to Shiro’s face.  The pointed metal tip was so polished that the Champion could see his reflection.  After seeing the fear in his own eyes, he watched the claw come closer.  Until it blurred and went out of focus at the bridge of his nose.  The faces of Zara and the other mates flashed in his memories.

He knew this was coming.  This moment when the claw would dig into his skin and cut across one cheek to the other.  He was marked as Sendak’s own.  At the very least, every Galra would know what the scar meant, and any aliens familiar with their traditions too.  Which was the majority of the people aboard the galaxy cruiser turned brothel.

The pain medication for Shiro’s missing arm thankfully dulled the rest of his nerves.  Not that he didn’t feel it.  His eyes narrowed despite the tears.  Gritting his teeth wasn’t helpful.  His remaining hand grasped onto the claw, trying in vain to push it away.

“You think you’re any match for me, Champion?”  Sendak laughed.  “Even with two arms, you were no trouble.  Easy to bind, tie up, and make use of.”

“Only because you had to tie and muzzle me in the first place,” Shiro warned.

The claw continued to drag across Shiro’s face, cutting deep into the bridge of his nose.  He tasted his own blood, and he swore.  Doing his best to block out the searing pain of his skin tearing like a seam.  That part was mercifully quick.

“And still, every decoration suited you.”

Sendak finished the wound off with a flourish.  Ripping across Shiro’s other cheek and trailing his blood over the white floor.  A growl grew in the commander’s chest until it because a snarl through his teeth.  He leered at his claimed mate.

He cradled Shiro’s head in his metal palm and licked the fresh wound.  “In time, you’ll learn to like it.”

Shiro watched in horror when he saw the curtain snap closed.   _ “Here?” _

“Our consummation,” Sendak replied.  “Do humans never claim others as their own?  What a lonely existence.”

As if the Galra were in any position to criticize humanity.  “It’s nothing like-”

A firm kiss cut Shiro off.  His whole body was repulsed by it until a rough tongue forced its way into his mouth.  That was worse.  The taste of his own blood and liquor spurred him to try and slug Sendak in the head with his fist.  Not that it did any good.  The only thing it got him was his legs wrenched from under Sendak, lips still pressed against his.

He heard the hiss of the commander’s armor depressurize and fall away.  The racket it made against the floor was loud enough so the whole unit heard too.  No one would stop what was happening because no one dared.  Wasn’t any different at the garrison when it came to superior officers and their favorite cadets.

The fierce kiss finally ended, and Shiro remembered how to breathe.  He was powerless to stop his legs from being hooked over Sendak’s hips.  All he could do was take in the sight of the Galra commander stripped of his armor, save for the arm.  Knots of thick fur perfect for taking hold of, especially across the chest and down his pleasure trail.  Right down to the throbbing cock pressed against Shiro’s thigh.

“I’ll fuck you every time we meet, Champion,” Sendak warned.  “Until you learn to spread your legs whenever you see me.”

It was the last threat he made before plunging his hard length into Shiro’s backside.  The barbs dug into his insides until he gasped in pain.  The cock pulled out just enough to make him start to beg for everything to stop, and it rammed into him again twice as hard.  The rounded head buried against his prostate.  His mind went blank, torn between pleasure and terror.

This rut was harder than what came before.  Like a wild animal, Sendak bucked against him with no time for adjustment.  The wound across Shiro’s face was still bleeding, and the streaks of blood and tears were licked up by his greedy mate.  It didn’t matter how hard he beat against the broad chest that hovered above him or yanked on the fur, there was no stopping anything.

When he didn’t fight back, Sendak would find a way to get him to struggle.  Biting Shiro hard enough to make him bleed even more was the preferred method, but he also wasn’t above twisting the healing arm with the claws.  Never enough to reopen the wound.  Even a Galra commander didn’t want to incur the wrath of the Druids while playing with their toys.

By the time his thrusts slowed, and Sendak rolled his hips rather than slammed them forward, Shiro thought he was ready to cum inside him and be done with it.  Yet he pulled out instead, one painful ridge after another.  Until his hard length was free of Shiro’s aching asshole.

Sitting back on Shiro’s legs, he arched his back for just the right angle.  He smirked down at his cornered prey, and eyed the mark with devilish satisfaction.  His paw worked at the sheath of his cock.

As much as it hypnotized Shiro, seeing it so close rather than across the room, dread sank to his gut.  He felt the deep cut across his face wasn’t the only mark he was going to wear.  Not tonight at least.  He stared at the cock’s head, then at Sendak’s face.  “You aren’t going to.”

Sendak’s smirk grew into a sick grin.  “Should I shove it into that smart mouth of yours instead?  Slide it down your throat and make you drink it?”

When he saw his mate’s expression, he laughed.  “I didn’t think you wanted that, Champion.”

With one last pump of his fist, a trickle of clear pre-cum dropped on Shiro’s own cock.  Followed by a spurt of black cum across his chest and then his face.  It fell right in his open wound, and he tried to scramble out from under Sendak’s heavy body.  Failing that, he carefully wiped the worst of it away from his eyes with a shaking hand.  A human growl was less intimidating but not less cathartic.

“You bastard!”

Sendak snatched his throat and pulled him away from the bed.  Shiro’s fingers tangled in the sheets, and he met his glare for a glare.  When the silence between them went on for too long, though, he was the first to look away.  He was already losing face?

“One day, Champion, you will learn to appreciate everything I’ve done for you.”  He made his mate meet his eyes again.  “And on that day, you will get on your knees and beg me.”

The heavy scent of Galra musk was inescapable as Sendak leaned in for one last kiss and the final word.

“Because I know soldiers like you, and where you belong.”


	9. Visions of Voltron

“Does he have no consideration for what I’m doing?  Do you?  Disgraceful.”

Shiro would’ve told Haggar right off that it wasn’t his choice.  Before she arrived, he was muzzled.  The nurse apologized profusely.  Although embarrassed, she cleaned up the rest of his face without saying a word about what happened.  Only that she would talk to the doctors about stitches after the Druid’s work was done.

If Haggar wanted Sendak to behave, then she needed to tell him herself.  Judging by what Sendak himself said, she was the eyes and ears of Emperor Zarkon.  Like the muzzle, she got whatever she demanded.

”No matter.  He can do what he likes with you in that regard,” she said.  “As long as he leaves my share of work alone, you are still worthy of Zarkon’s interest.”

Wonderful.

Shiro didn’t try to look over and see what Haggar was up to.  Her robes obscured more than her own appearance, so all he could do was listen.  It sounded like a chemistry lab.  The clinking of glass bottles and vials, the hiss of a bunsen burner, and the bubbling of mixtures were off-set by the pink glow of refined quintessence.  The only thing visible beyond the wall of purple fabric and tarnished gold thread.

Unlike the other Druids he knew, Haggar never muttered spells.  Her control was absolute, her grip on magic a vice.  She cut the air with her claws, and a series of symbols appeared for an instant, black and crude, before vanishing.  The only one he recognized was a notation for “balmera crystal” although he didn’t know what it was.  Just that it was element vital to making fuel for the Galra ships.

“I need to double-check your measurements.”

Haggar didn’t look at his face when she joined Shiro.  She drew a cloth tape measure from her robes and focused on his remaining arm.  The restraints were thicker than even the collar around his neck, two bands clasped over his forearm and anchored to the bed frame.  She paid them no mind when checking the length from his elbow to his fingertips.  Then she circled him to examine the right stump.  With little regard, her yellow eyes stared at the point of amputation.

“Good, the healing process is not too far along.”  She left him and returned to her instruments.  “The quintessence will bond both the cybernetic and the biological tissue together.  You should have full mobility in a few hours.”

“What do you mean, ‘cybernetic tissue?’”

If she heard Shiro’s question, the witch chose to ignore him.  “Only a little longer, and we will have the right temperature.”

Like Sendak and Zara, Haggar preferred to talk to herself rather than anyone else.  Her hand waved away the door, and a black energy closed it and turned the lock.  The energy spread to coat the walls, ceiling, and even the floor until the two of them were shut away from the rest of the world.  Pink symbols appeared on the floor beneath him, and again, Shiro saw the balmera crystal sigil scrawled at the center.  It was a brilliant blue rather than pink, and it pulsed.

“Your upgraded arm, Champion.”

Haggar approached him while carrying the prosthetic within view.  She was beside herself with excitement, and her grin belonged to a bride.  Already, Shiro started to see the benefit to Sendark claiming him instead.  Her hair was long and off-white, and deep red tattoos connected the corner of her eyes to her bottom lip.  Her hood concealed the rest of her appearance, but she was older than Zara.

After exhausting the other options, Shiro finally looked down at his new arm.

The Galra craftsman who fashioned the prosthetic was blessed in subtlety.  Rather than a massive club with claws, this was simply an arm.  A human-looking one at that.  They crafted the bulk of its shape from the same metal used in armor for Galra androids and footsoldiers.  The elbow, wrist, and fingers were an unknown black material, but it didn’t have the same weight as the polished metal.  Whatever it was, Shiro thought the whole piece was beautiful.

“Pretty enough on its own,” Haggar agreed.  “Soon, you will understand better.”

She pulled the tubes from the inside of his remaining arm and the top of the same hand.  The machines connected to him screeched, but a glare from the witch killed the power feeding into them.  The cloaked room was silent again.  The prosthetic hummed while resting beside his right thigh.  God, Shiro hoped it wasn’t sentient.

Before Haggar introduced them, she scratched a few symbols into the stump.  They lined where the amputation ended, and once the ring was done, the marks started to glow that eerie pink.  Matching symbols appeared on the prosthetic.  The vibrations were enough to make Shiro’s teeth start to rattle.

“There will be pain.”

No kidding.

“You know nothing else like it.”

A jolt shot up what was left of his original arm before she even attached it.  The quintessence between himself and the prosthetic crackled to life, and like Sendak’s shoulder, a bolt of pink lightning joined them.  Maybe Shiro screamed and maybe he didn’t.  The only thing he knew was the rest of his body was on fire.  It tore up to his shoulder and across his chest, down into the other arm and his torso.  Right through his legs and the soles of his feet.

When the energy flooded up to his head, his eyes tore open.  His ears popped.  The world was sucked through what had to be a blackhole.  Then silence and emptiness.

Shiro’s body was weightless and floating in the void.  He was curled into the fetal position, and the shivering wouldn’t stop.  He felt his eyes staring into nothingness.  His ears strained to hear even the smallest sound.  Nothing.  He couldn’t see either his real or prosthetic hand even when he felt them touch his face.  Cold metal and warm skin.

Was this what Sendak meant, when he warned about the quintessence tearing him apart?

No, no Shiro was  _ sure _ he saw a hint of light in the darkness.  It was barely there, but a tiny flame was flickering out in the inky black void.  Another appeared, and there was two.  Then three, and four, and five.  Five small flames dancing around and scattered in his vision.

Spurred on by an indescribable feeling, Shiro pulled himself out of the circle his pain-wracked body forced him into.  He stood on his feet and grounded himself.  The quintessence beat heavier with every step he took towards the flames.  The closer he came to reaching them, the faster and harder the rhythm.  The flames got larger and brighter too.

A red and blue flame to his right, a green and yellow flame to his left, and a purple flame at the center.  Halfway to reaching it, the purple flame disappeared.  The others died away with it.  Did he chose the wrong one?

A lion’s roar rippled through his doubts and compelled Shiro to look up.

Five lionesses, one for each flame, appeared.  Their yellow eyes stared at him, and they stood with their right paws set around him in a circle.  A black lioness was in front of him.  Enveloped in purple fire.  She looked away from him first and further up into the sky.  The other members of her pride looked with her, and Shiro followed their gaze.

In the center, above him and the lionesses, was another face within a lion’s jaw and surrounded by its mane.  A haunting voice reached his deafened ears.

_“Voltron,”_ it said. _“...And you, a Paladin.  Chosen to serve in my name.”_  
Shiro was too dumbfounded to speak.  If he could speak at all, he didn’t know.  His mind was blank other than the voice speaking to him.

_ “Voltron is not lost, but hidden…  I will be found again… _

_ “I am found again.” _

The voice was ripped out of his head by the violent shock in his right side.  Shiro thrashed against his restraints until he had the sense to try his new hand.  The burning metal tore through the leather like it was paper.  He was on his feet.

Nurses shrieked, and doctors plastered themselves up against walls.  They gave him the widest berth possible and stayed clear of the door.  Shiro didn’t even see them.  He was clutching his head with one hand, keeping the quintessence of the other as far from himself as he could.  It felt… wrong, somehow.  It didn’t belong to him.

The hallway emptied as bystanders ducked into the nearest rooms.  No one spoke because no one dared.  The Champion was loose and, more than that, unhinged.

Shiro stalked forward.  His palm was wet from tears, and his lips cracked with his uneven breaths.  The wound across his nose reopened.  He felt the fresh blood trickle down his cheeks.  He muttered the name of the god-like being from his hallucination until it became a mantra.

“Voltron…  Voltron.  Voltron.”

He was so consumed by the vision that Shiro didn’t see the black energy building around his still glowing hand.  It was like black barbed wire strung around the pink glow of quintessence.  It curled around the entirety of the arm, and then expanded.  The threads snapped.  The prosthetic deactivated, and he nearly collapsed from the added weight.

It was too heavy to even drag along behind him.  Shiro stopped dead in his tracks, and he howled with anger.  Trying to tear himself free from the metal arm, to keep following the call of an entity he couldn’t begin to understand.

Haggar came for the fallen Champion.

She didn’t approach but appeared, and she yanked him back to his feet.  Cursing him and his title until she heard the name he continued to chant.  Then she also quieted, just to be sure.

“Voltron,” he said.  “Voltron needs me.”

Shiro stared back at her.  His mind was numb, and his body ached.  If anyone in the universe understood, it was Druid Haggar.  She had to.  What use was she if she didn’t know?

“So it does, Champion,” she agreed.  Her voice was softer although still rough around the edges.  She patted Shiro’s head as if he was a small child.  In her ancient eyes, all humans were.  And still an entity like Voltron would choose one as a Paladin.

“Emperor Zarkon knows where it is,” she assured him.  “When you are better, when you are _stronger_ , he will show Voltron to you.”


	10. Meeting the Legend

Recovery from the bonding process was a fever dream.  Shiro was not himself, but he didn’t know how to crawl back to sanity.  When he wasn’t ill, he was screaming.  He didn’t even know if he was asleep or awake.  All he saw and felt were the lions while they pulled him in five different directions.  He slid across the slab that was his bed, trying to claw his way toward them.

Bolide, despite their size, was there to put him back.  They brought him food and water, and they cleaned his wounds.  They also refitted the bed whenever clean blankets and furs were brought to the door.  All without disturbing Shiro anymore than absolutely necessary.

No one else came for him.  Not Haggar or Sendak, not even Madame Renaud.  They left him to fight on his own, and he was sure that somewhere in his mad ramblings he cursed them all to an early death.  They started it, and not one of them would help stop the frenzied cycle.

Quintessence was not meant for consumption, much less a part of anyone’s person.  The abomination intended as an arm.was out to kill him faster than the Asteroid Wraith.  Like clockwork, every time Shiro was ready for sleep, the quintessence activated.  Wrestling with the Galra metal, his nails nearly came off.  His fingertips scorched.

Bolide came with wet towels, gotten from who knew where and how.  They wrapped his hand up with one and pressed the other to his forehead, and Shiro’s mind cleared for a brief moment.  The bedroom was a mess of smeared pink and purple light, but he could see more than blackness and dancing flames.  He ate during these times, and no matter how much water he drank, he needed another glass.  It was a fight to keep his sense of self.

Finally, after four days of nonstop struggle, the arm learned to behave itself.  The fear that it might start over was first in Shiro’s mind, but nothing came of it.  He slept soundly in his bed, and Bolide reclaimed their place in the canopy.  They sensed it too.

The war against himself was won.

Learning to use the prosthetic the next day was strange.  The weight was the biggest difference to his natural arm, and the effort needed to lift it was a bit much.  Then again, in his thrashing, he was sure the shoulder muscles pulled.  His body was so tense that he wasn’t sure he could stretch out the problem.  Not to mention his uniform was starting to feel like a second skin in the most unflattering way possible.

“I could use a bath.  Do you think it’s worth the risk?”

Bolide rubbed against his prosthetic while grinning up at him.  Despite everything the damn thing did to him, they weren’t afraid of it.  Shiro doubted they actually knew what it was capable of anymore than he did, but he liked that at least one of them could bear to look at his arm.  A start if nothing else.

“Alright, but this time, you’re coming with me.”

They clicked Shiro’s leash onto his collar, and they nearly dragged him to the door.  Eager to be in the brothel they called home rather than stuffed in a single bedroom for days on end.  Bolide’s enthusiasm was so infectious that he almost missed an important detail.

As they wound their way through the corridors, Shiro realized they weren’t attended.  No waiting guards or androids armed to the teeth with laser rifles.  Without the rhythmic march of metal on metal, he thought the ship might be quieter.  Yet the pleasured moans and worrisome cries were louder than ever, and the music was eerie.  Drifting between rooms, never on the same beat, at times it overwhelmed everything else.

Which wasn’t helped by Bolide humming along.

“You know all the words, don’t you?”  Shiro smiled as best he could.  “I keep wondering how long you’ve lived here.  You know all the halls, you know where to hide…”

They side-eyed him and put a finger to their lips.  Maybe one day they would share secrets, but he needed rest.  The map of the ship was already forming whether he was aware of it or not.  Enough times through, and Shiro wouldn’t need their guidance.

When the floors became slick, he felt anything but calm.  The attendants who stood by the door looked all too familiar, but Bolide paid them no mind.  They pulled him along and led him towards a empty bathing pool.  Shiro was increasingly concerned with how deft they were at getting him undressed, but they only let the other attendants near when they passed off his sweat and blood-soaked clothes.  Exchanging it for a basket of supplies.

Shiro slid into the hot water and sighed.  He kept his eyes closed for a good, long while before slipping under the surface.  The water closed off all other sound, and his thoughts stilled.  When it was time to come up, he simply let his body float.  The bath was wide and long enough for him to do it.  His body spun in lazy circles.

The ceiling was hard to see through the layers of rising steam.  Finally, though, a mural appeared.  It was Galra through and through, but the moody blues made it easier to interpret.  Five Druids stood with paws clasped and held out to the center.  This formed a star, and in the middle of said star was a planet.  He assumed it was the Galra homeworld based on the purple and pink clouds that circled its surface, not unlike Jupiter.

The planet was a place he never saw.  To be honest, Shiro often wondered if it still existed, or if the empire’s conquest started as a way to find a new home.  Emperor Zarkon struck him as the sort of dictator that would make a weighted promise just to gain power.

Squinting harder, the Druids looked strange.  Their faces weren’t as gaunt, and there weren’t any masks.  No claws either.   _Were_ they Galra?

Shiro shifted his weight and settled on the edge of the bath again.  Bolide was on him within moments, bar of shampoo in hand, and they chattered while sudsing him up.  Tilted his head down before rinsing and left him alone.  He heard them leave his side but not the direction they went in.  He took it upon himself to wash the hospital and everything else off the rest of him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a crowd gathering.  Plenty of them were staff, but there were even more that weren’t in red and bronze.  It didn’t feel like the leering gaze of the other mates, but they watched regardless.  Shiro did his best to ignore them.

Besides the look of it, his new arm didn’t feel any different from the genuine article.  The water helped it feel lighter too.  The fact it was buoyant didn’t occur him until then, although he was floating earlier.  Whoever was in charge of the arm’s design knew a lot about human anatomy.  Odd, considering there were only three humans in the Galra Empire.  Come to think of it, two of those three had intimate knowledge in biology, and one of those two also knew plenty about advanced technology.

What Matt didn’t know, he was good at learning and improvising.

Shiro didn’t want to get too hopeful, but the idea that a familiar face was responsible for his new appendage was comforting.  Sure, the thing still tried to rip him apart in the beginning.  Probably a result of quintessence and space magic not factoring into a neat scientific equation.

Bolide still didn’t return by the time he was done daydreaming.  Not that it was a big deal to finally have a quiet moment, but he worried anyway.  When his alien friend went missing, things started to go weird or just plain wrong.  He counted down, and before he got to ten, there was a splash beside him.  He prepared for the worst.

Yet Shiro’s visitor was a small child, quadruped but a child nonetheless.  Their black skin flecked with yellow, and over their joints grew long wisps of white fur.  They stared up at him through eyes that were the inverse of his own.  “You’re the Champion.”

He cautiously smiled at them.  “I am.”

“I watched you fight the Wraith,” they said.  “My dad didn’t think you would win, but I told him that you would.  You always win, and that’s why you’re the Champion.  That’s what I told him.”

“And you were right.”

Gloating didn’t come naturally, but a kid was still a kid, no matter what planet they came from.  Their wide mouth stretched into a grin.

“Were you scared?”  They didn’t wait for answer.  “I never saw one before, but those teeth were big!  They were selling them after the fight.  I wanted one, but Dad said they cost too much.  It wouldn’t fit in the pod anyway…”

While the kid got lost in an excited ramble, the onlookers drifted closer.  No one else slipped into the small bath, thank the gods, but the audience was sizable.  They were all different heights and shapes, but they managed to make a circle around the Champion and his fan.

Soon, they were asking their own questions, and even the child quieted down just to hear Shiro tell his own version of events.  It was impossible not to smile when the whole crowd would gasp every time he demonstrated a fighting stance.  Or the way they quoted the challenges he made to Commander Sendak, said in hushed whispers in case the Galra was listening.  They hung on his every word.

This was a first.  Sure, Shiro often heard the soldiers and other prisoners talk about him, but these people seemed to be common folk.  The patrons weren’t staunch empire loyalists or involved in politics at all judging by the way they talked.  Even if they were, right then they were simple bath goers who happened to catch a glimpse of the Champion.  Billions of miles from home, and this slice of the universe still had folk heroes.

The surreal nature of it stuck with Shiro through the rest of the small talk.  When Bolide returned with towels and a new change of clothes, he brought the event to an end.  “I’d love to talk more, but I’ve got to get back to my room,” he explained.  “It was nice meeting you all.”

Reluctant but courteous, the crowd returned to their own duties and rest.  The child was collected by who Shiro assumed was their father, and the chatter started all over again from the top.  Shiro chuckled when the kid was out of earshot, but he was sure they wouldn’t notice.  They were too wound up.

“You missed the strangest thing yet, Bolide,” he said.  “You would’ve thought I won a war… but all I was doing was trying to keep my head attached to my shoulders.”  He laughed at himself.  “I should’ve paid more attention to what _else_ was attached to them.”

Bolide shrugged and hid their own smile as best they could.  It wasn’t easy despite the veils hiding most of their face.  They motioned for him to get out of the bath, and they handed him his new clothes as well.

This set wasn’t the deep red and bronze of a brothel employee, and it was missing the right sleeve altogether.  The plum and gold number was also two separate pieces.  The top half looking a lot shorter than it should for a man of Shiro’s height.  “So I’m going to look even _more_ like bait...”

Just like he thought, his entire midsection was as plain to see like when he was naked in the bath.  The pants also hung lower on his hips than he liked.  Bolide swept in and helped him a second time.  They wrapped him in their veils like a present.  Tying them each with a small bow at the back until there was a neat row of four down his spine.  His abs were visible under the sheer fabric, but Shiro looked and felt more whole.

Before he could thank them, Bolide took his leash and his right hand.  They grinned up at him and pulled him along toward the dining hall.  After so many days in one tiny room and then another, he gratefully followed.  Shiro didn’t get to finish his share of the buffet last time, and the hope of enjoying one of those frilly cakes made him wistful.  Maybe they would stop at the desserts first… just to make sure.


	11. Ballroom Brawl

“How does it feel, walking among citizens of the empire?”

Shiro glanced at Sendak and then focused on the party surrounding them.  The few days of respite were over, and already, his thoughts escaped when there was a lapse in conversation.  If a lecture was “conversation” to begin with.

“If that was actually happening right now, I’d prefer it.”

The deep chuckle was felt more than heard.  Sendak kept him so close that he was almost on his lap, but he kept his paws to himself.  For once.  The only hold he had on Shiro was the thick chain leashing him, and he appeared satisfied.  Rare in the brief time they spent together thus far.

Sendak gestured to the people in their company while holding a glass in his paw.  “Look at them as the Champion would.  Galra do not make friends, they make prey.”

The party was well-attended by both Galra and aliens considered worthy of their presence.  Madame Renaud was laughing after diving far into her cups the moment the soiree began.  Shiro also caught glimpses of the sister-wives as they wove through social circles with dangerous elegance.  Dressed in black gowns, they also took pleasure in brushing shoulders with the wives of other officers.  Each of which bore a mark of their own.  Wherever skin and fur was visible, there was a mark like the one across his nose.  Some on shoulders, others on chests, and still more on backs and thighs.

One mate had a mark clear across her throat, and she never strayed from her husband’s side.  Judging by how tight his grip on her waist was, she wouldn’t get far on her own even if she darted.  Her dress was modest compared to those worn by Sendak’s wives as well.  Her arms and legs covered in thick black fabric which was too warm for the room filled with moving bodies.  Her shoulders were shaking, and her paws held together like a knot.

Her husband was a broad-chested commander, judging by the heavy armor.  Like Sendak’s chestplate, it was decorated with two yellow eyes, but the metal was almost all black save for a few red details.  His ears were less impressive as well.  The biggest differences were the lack of any prosthetics and his ferocious underbite.

“That is Commander Prorok and his chosen wife.”  Sendak emptied his glass.  “His only wife, rather.  I don’t know her actual name, but the rest of us call her ‘Balmera.’”

“I’m going to guess you just don’t want me to find out what her name is.  There’s got to be something else you’re after.”

Sendak surprised him by licking his ear, sending shivers down his spine.  “Who said anything about you digging for information?  Does that mind of yours ever stop plotting?”

Plotting?  Shiro felt he hadn’t been plotting since he got dropped into this whorehouse.  Everything that came after felt like a foggy memory, and keeping his head together was the number one goal.  A scheme that involved casting circles, summoning alien gods, and missing limbs was rather convoluted when there were easier ways to get what he wanted.

“Watch and listen tonight, Champion.  You will have your chance soon enough, but you need to learn patience.”  Sendak’s gaze remained on the crowd.  “Glory only gets a soldier so far.”

Shiro leveled with him.  “What about what you said the other night?  You made it pretty clear where I ‘belonged.’”

The heavy arm laid across the back of the couch, chain still held loosely in its claws.  There was no way to get away from it without actually sitting in Sendak’s lap.  Veiled midriff aside, that was not going to happen.  Not with all the eyes stealing glances while lips hovered on glass rims.

“No matter what rank, every soldier is inferior to another.  It isn’t about capability, it’s about mentality.”  He gave the chain a tug.  “You’re afraid of me, Champion.  It was clear from the day you called to me in the stands.”

“But I’m capable.”

“Of more than any of us guessed.”  Sendak pulled Shiro onto his lap anyway.  Kissing the back of his neck and wrapping an arm around his waist.  “Watch and wait.  Once you learn the game, you’re more than welcome to play.”

Indeed, the social circles were already changing, and their conversation only lasted ten minutes.  The lounge was the perfect size for the number of attendants and servers present.  The low lighting added an air of intrigue, and the live music was sultry and withdrawn, letting conversation flow with ease.  Crystals glittered above the people’s heads, too far to reach but just near enough to lose oneself in the patterns they made across the walls and ceiling.

Zara and Sennar were engrossed in a conversation with a much shorter diplomat.  She was easy to spot with her long fur coat and hands dripping with gold jewelry.  Her hair was as luscious and creamy as her coat, and it took an embarrassingly long time for Shiro to put together that they were one in the same.  She puffed on a delicate carved pipe while they talked.

Temma was mischievous in her dealings with the attending dignitaries.  Although a marked mate, she was unabashed in saddling up to a young officer.  His ears pointed forward with obvious interest, and she looped her arm through his.  Like a silk thread through a silver needle.  She licked her lips and whispered in his ear before pulling him aside to a secluded corner.

Shiro turned his attention elsewhere.

Out of the four, the only one he didn’t find was Demar.  While searching for her, he noted the few unique individuals in the room.  The serpentine pair. which decorated their hoods in piercings and glittering gems, dined on live morsels.  Behind them was a languid bird-like creature who slouched against the bar and regaled stories of his home planet to the bartender.  His laments drowned out by the laughter surrounding a couch on the opposite wall.

Madame Renaud was speaking candidly with a crowd of ladies over green wine.  It was difficult to see their faces, but the majority of the gossipers were Galra ladies bored with their husbands.  When Shiro listened in, they weren’t talking in a language he understood.  The laughter almost sounded put on.  Paying closer attention, all the ladies in question wore a pin decorated with three pearlesque beads.  A secret society?

Last but not least, he found Demar.  She walked towards Sendak, and in her company was another officer.  He was older than the one Temma lured off but younger than the commanders attending the soiree.  Shiro was taken aback by how human the officer’s face was.  Streaks of white lined his furred ears, but otherwise, it looked as if he simply had a well-groomed beard.  His sharp brows were knit together, and his frown was deep set.  His cheeks looked gaunt.

The thickest manes and painted armor dictated rank and experience as far as Shiro could tell.  After enough time in service to the empire, he wondered if the officer wouldn’t resemble Sendak.  For his sake, he also hoped prosthetics were optional for the everyday Galra.

The officer saluted the commander and struggled to smile.  “Lieutenant Commander Thace, sir.  It’s a pleasure.”

Sendak’s ears swiveled to the side, guarded but respectful.  “Who do you serve under?  I’ve never seen your face before on my ship.”

“Commander Prorok is my superior,” he explained.  “I would have introduced myself sooner, but I was instructed to remain aboard our ship until this evening.  I’m sorry if I disturbed you and your mate.”

Demar’s slight grin didn’t go unnoticed.  Shiro glared at her, but she tapped the side of her own nose and winked.  “I promised you weren’t going to be a bother,” she assured Thace.  “The commander is always happy to meet new talent.”

“It isn’t about talent, dear,” Sendak said.  “It’s about skill.  I hope you serve your commander well.  Prorok is bold, but he is also unafraid.”

“I plan to learn a great deal from him, sir.”  He bowed.  “I’ll be leaving now, but it was an honor to speak with you.”

Demar whisked him away to speak with a small gathering of unmarked Galra ladies.  They squealed with delight, and the poor soldier was swarmed with instant admirers.  Thace raised his hands as if in immediate surrender.  He was over his head even more than the single human in the room.

Sendak pulled Shiro closer until Shiro’s cheek was flush to the hard chestplate.  It was cool compared to the tight space they all shared, and he stayed put.  Although no one was staring, he didn’t want to give them any reason to either.  Besides, this was gentler treatment than anything shown before.

“What did you think of the lieutenant commander, Champion?”

Shiro mulled over an answer.  “He was hiding his fear.  He respects you… and I think he might think better of you than he does his superior.”

A smirk teased at the corners of Sendak’s mouth.  “Does he really?”

“You asked me about my impression, didn’t you?”  He glanced over at Thace.  “His reply was short.  Not rehearsed but definitely a ‘safe’ kind of answer.”

“Mmm, so humans have keen ears after all.”

The hum sounded a lot like a purr, but Shiro kept that to himself.  It wasn’t that he learned to watch his mouth.  Rather, he thought calling Sendak out on it would lead to other things.  Like them both leaving the party for a private setting when his right arm wasn’t quite ready for a roll with a massive Galra.  Whether his prayers to be left alone after the festivities died down would be answered or not remained unknown.

Yet the affections were as strange as the abuse.  Possessive, sure, but the calculated tenderness put Shiro’s nerves on edge.  His jaw clenched, and his shoulders tensed.  He hoped Sendak didn’t smell the growing dread on him.

All through the night, the staff poured drinks and took empty glasses.  They were adept at invisibility while standing in plain sight, and their hands stayed steady.  Their agility was impressive too while dodging their especially well entertained guests.  They avoided long tails and wild gestures, and they betrayed nothing through their expressions.

Madame Renaud’s management skills were likewise admirable.  She never said a word to her staff, but they followed her line of sight whenever a glass was close to empty.  Even the bartender keyed into her every whim.  After everyone was well in their cups, the bar’s stock was replaced with lesser wines and liquor.  They could stay drunk for hours more without noticing a thing.

Shiro wasn’t the only person who recognized the well-oiled machine.  A Galra lady, marked across her knee, also watched the staff when the conversation around her seat turned dull.  She didn’t make an outright scene, but she visibly sniffed in disdain.   She was a ticking bomb, and he saw the countdown from clear across the room.

Sendak saw too, and he smirked before letting the chain go slack.  Whether amused or bored, he allowed Shiro to get off his lap and walk towards the lady in question.  His right arm hummed and egged him on.

Engrossed in her wickedness, her ladyship never saw him coming.

It was so petty, the way she slipped her foot between the waiter’s stride.  Their tray of fresh poured cocktails flipped up while they went straight down.  Surprise and fear flashed across their face at once.  The drinks were a wash out, but Shiro dove into catch the waiter.  Pulling them against him, he tried to shield them from the broken glass if nothing else.

Except the drinks didn’t fall.  Acting on instinct, his right arm swung back around.  It activated with a painful flash of burning light, and the trail of quintessence cut through tray, glasses, and liquor.  The tray was cut in half.  Everything else disintegrated.  There wasn’t even the sound of broken glass, no glittering shards overhead.

The silence was broken by clattering metal on a smooth floor.  Then it returned as the party-goers and staff alike stared down at Shiro in blank wonder.

The waiter practically gasped in gratitude.  “Thank you…”

Madame Renaud laughed and stood, helping them to their feet.  “I was not aware that I called for entertainment,” she mused.  “Much less from the Champion himself.”

“It was…”  He shook his head to clear it.  “As long as there’s no lasting harm, ma’am.”

“Oh, but there  _ was _ harm,” the Galra said.  “Why, look at my dress.  It’s in utter shambles!”

She was still seated, her marked knee resting over her thigh.  Although the cut was clean, the hem of her red gown was indeed torn.  Clear scorch marks followed along its edge, and the smallest trickle of blood was visible on her fur.  Shit.

The scowling lady didn’t notice it, but a furious roar from nearby made it clear that her mate did.

Shiro didn’t even see him coming.  He went rolling, arms pinned behind his head by a furious officer.  One who he didn’t recognize.  Because he didn’t have time.  Survival took over.  The decorated room was another arena, and the officer was his opponent.

His forehead slammed into the Galra’s skull.  He was lighter than Sendak.  Wrapping his legs around the officer’s middle, Shiro flipped them both hard.  His own head spun, but he went in for the kill.  Right hand pointed like a dagger straight for the throat.  Blade or not, he would crush the windpipe at least.

The arm activated, but this time, the barbed energy was back.  Sending shocks of rippling pain through his shoulder until he lost hold of the officer.  There was a sharp tug on his chain.

“You did well, Champion, but the fight is over.”  Sendak stood over them both.  “You got your share… Now allow me to have mine.”

Wordlessly, Shiro asked what he meant.  The answer was swift as the commander grabbed the offending officer by the throat and lifted him into the air.  Everyone saw him struggle to breathe, clawing at the metal arm which held him aloft.  The gamble whether he would live or die was high.

“Mates settle between mates,” Sendak said.  “You had no right to interfere.”

He lowered his gaze onto Shiro, and he yanked him to his feet.  “You were the one who was wronged, so you decide.  Do I crush him, here and now, or do I let him go?”

“Let him go.”  There wasn’t any thought in his decision.  “I think he’s learned the error of his ways.”

Sendak smirked, but he did as he promised.  He let the officer drop to the floor, and then kicked him with a spiked boot.  “You are stripped of your rank, but remember this…  You are the first to be spared by the Champion.  I doubt the honor will be given to you again.”

Nodding dumbly, the former officer was helped to his feet by his cowed mate.  She said nothing to either Sendak or Shiro, and she kept her head low when passing the other Galra.  The door clicked behind them without a single word spoken among the guests or staff.  Their silence was like stone.  They accepted the verdict and shunned the parting couple, as if they were never there.

It was eerie how quick they returned to normal conversation, though.

The waiter was long gone, and Shiro looked around for them in a daze.  A second jerk on his chain brought his attention to Sendak instead.  Zara was beside him, fingers laced between his giant claws.  Her yellow eyes were smiling even though her lips were drawn in a straight line.

“If I might, dear, my friends were curious about your new mate…~”

“Take him with you then, and see that he behaves himself.”  Sendak passed the chain to her.  “I expect you all in my chambers at the night’s end.”

The smile she gave Shiro froze the sweat clinging to his brow.

“You have my word.”


	12. Bad Manners

Zara kept his chain short.  Her behind brushed against Shiro with every other step, but maybe that was the whole point.  The curve of her hips exaggerated in her long strides as she walked toward her pride.  She fancied the Champion as her personal accessory, like a designer purse slung over her shoulder.

“Magnificent, isn’t he?”

She guided Shiro into the center of five other mature ladies.  They shared her impressive height, but most were lean by comparison.  They stood with their shoulders rolled back and heads held high.  Ears kept off to the side to feign disinterest.  When they closed in around him, Shiro swore they smiled in unison.

One regarded him with greater scrutiny than her companions and leaned forward to get a better look at him.  She was marked above her left eye, and her thin fur was a lighter shade of purple than the other Galra.  “Can we pass him around, Zara love?  This lighting is awful.”

So it wasn’t just him.

“You’re more than welcome to,” Zara agreed.  “You know the rules.  Look and touch as you like, but unless Sendak allows it, he’s not anyone else’s to play with.”

“A shame he got to him first, wouldn’t you say, Naja?”  This Galra was the oldest among them, given her raspy voice and greying mane, and her mark was below her collarbone.  Her eyes ate up everything from his waist down.  “Otherwise, I would buy him out from under Madame Renaud.”

“He’s never worked as a whore, Kekar,” Naja said.  “Cute as he is, he doesn’t have the mannerisms.”  She ran a claw under his chin.  “Strong jaw, though.  Have you put his tongue to work yet?  A shame to waste the opportunity.”

“You’ll need to ask Sennar about his skills in that regard.”  They all snickered.  “He makes for a smooth ride, I promise you that.”

Someone behind him ran their paw over Shiro’s ass, and once they reached low enough, they took a firm hold.  “Mmm, I’m sure the commander would agree.”

“Not as smooth as you’d think,” Shiro snipped.  When he tried to get away from her, yet another Galra pinched his arm.  “That’s enough of that.”

Naturally this was a challenge, and they were eager to accept.  While Zara held his leash good and tight, the ladies took turns in feeling him up.  Nothing was sacred.  Not his arms or legs, and certainly not his ass.  Their open palms and claws brushed over his groin, but they had the sense not to grab him.  Not decency but plenty of sense, respecting only that it belonged to Sendak and the other mates.  The commentary never stopped.

“Such small ears, and so little fur!”

“Yes, but look at the darling tuft there.” They tussled his bangs.  “I think it’s coming in white, how cute.”

“Nevermind the hair.  I’m curious what he’ll look like in proper armor.”  Naja spread her claws across his chest.  “So broad… with plenty of room for a handsome chestplate.”

“What do you think, Zara?”

The crass conversation turned to one a lot easier for Shiro to listen to.  The molestation stopped as well, although it could start again.  His “small ears” were red hot, and even his healing scar couldn’t hide the blush across his cheeks and nose.

The Grand Duchess considered him from a slight angle.  She entered the circle and made a show of placing her hands on him herself.  Over his shoulders and arms, then back up and across his chest, she assessed his measurements.  “He would make a fine officer one day, if only he were one of us.  Perhaps we should take it upon ourselves to teach him.

“What do you say, ladies?”

The group sobered considerably when the proposition was made.  Naja and Kekar exchanged a glance between them, and they nodded in mutual agreement.  The rest soon followed.  Wine glasses passed around as an act of solidarity.

“Yes,” said Kekar.  “I believe we should.”

“No one knows how to groom an officer quite like we do.”

“What a handsome pair he would make as an equal with Commander Sendak.”

Zara leaned in close until her lips brushed his.  Her voice dripped like honey with poison on her fangs.  “You would like that, wouldn’t you, Champion?”

“For asking so many questions, you never listen to the answers.”  Shiro was done with games.  “Let’s not drag this out anymore than necessary.”

He kept his voice quiet.  He didn’t want to risk embarrassing her, since he knew she wouldn’t hesitate to rake her own claws across his face.  She might anyway.  Shiro didn’t know which mattered more to Galra high society.  If it was personal honor above all else, or if public outbursts were frowned upon.  They were both mates to Sendak.  Did that mean they were equals?

“You’ll understand how much you need me,” Zara said.  Her smile didn’t lose any of its smugness.  “Sendak can only get you so far on his own, and by then... I might grow tired of you.”

Rather than tear into his face, she dragged a single claw down the veils concealing his abs.  The thin fabric didn’t stand a chance.  They fell away, and a sliver of blood trailed down his torso.  The only reason he flinched was for Bolide’s sake, since he couldn’t replace them on his own.  Otherwise, he barely felt a sting.  A clear difference between Sendak’s sadism and her own.

“So the rest of the way is on me.”  Shiro kept his right arm in check.  “Would be nice to handle things without everyone bullying me into doing it their way.”

“One day, Champion.”

Sendak’s metal paw fell on his shoulder.  Its weight settled there as a warning, but no claws dug into his skin.  He pulled Shiro towards him, and the chain went slack in Zara’s loose hold.  She gave him away without an argument.

“I think it’s time I show you the quarters you’ll be sharing with the rest of us.”  He applied enough pressure to make Shiro bow, and then let off.  “Thank you for a pleasant evening.”

“Yes… thank you.”

It wasn’t the most convincing, but he hoped his show of gratitude wasn’t completely dismissed.  None of the smiles were readable.  No rolling of eyes or sips of wine, nothing to suggest sarcasm or disapproval.  They said sweet goodbyes, or at least that was what Shiro assumed they were.  They were in a dialect he didn’t understand.

Sendak didn’t translate for him either, not even when they stepped outside of the banquet room.  The dimmed lights suggested that they were deep in the ship’s night cycle, and Shiro needed to be lead until his eyes adjusted.  Thankfully, it wasn’t a long wait.  The two walked at a slow pace with a neutral silence between them.  The chain clinked every few steps, but that was all.

Until Shiro heard the soft footfalls behind them.  They followed at a brisk pace, and they stayed out of sight.  Sendak’s ears flicked back.  He heard them as well, and he looked less than pleased.  He stopped and faced the one tailing them.

“If you come to serve your master, you can follow.  If you’re spying for that old woman, then you’ve failed in your mission.”

Bolide appeared at Shiro’s side, seemingly from nowhere.  One glance up towards the ceiling, and it was clear.  A small latched door swung open, and although he couldn’t see into it, there were small blue lights.  It wasn’t an air duct, but an actual walkway above the one Sendak and himself were taking.

“A clever way for the madame’s lackies to travel from one end of the ship to another.” Sendak reached up and closed the hatch.  “Too small for Galra to utilize, but perfect for the luminata.  Isn’t that right?”

The mirth on Bolide’s face was a surprise, given how they reacted to Zara’s letter before.  Luminata was the preferred name for their race, or they threatening the commander was too much of a risk.  They linked arms with Shiro, all but skipping just to keep up with his long strides.  He thought he saw them press a finger to their lips and looked briefly at the floor.

When he followed their gaze, he noticed the panels were disjointed here.  A recent addition, or signs that more passages existed.  It merited further investigation.

Sendak shoved him along ahead of him, and the trio pressed on.  Passed only by the troop of guards making their rounds.  No music played in this quarter of the ship, and what was once a comfortable silence started to knot in Shiro’s gut.  This wasn’t the brothel proper but a residential wing.

Of course he wouldn’t be welcomed to Sendak’s quarters aboard the battleship.  Mate or not, he was on the fifth rung of the pecking order.  One relegated to sitting pretty on the commander’s lap while onlookers judged which were his flaws and blessings.  Not unlike the wives of the officers back home, although then it was less about the quality of his “fur” or the length of his canines.  The attention to lineage was just as obnoxious.

As soon as the hatch door opened, Bolide let go and hurried inside.  Climbing up pillars of fabric, they disappeared over a ledge lining the walls of the first room.  Shiro heard them scurrying like a large mouse through the suite, but they were clear out of sight.  Not even the blue glow of their eyes gave them away.

“Keep them from Zara, and they are welcome to continue serving you, Champion.  If she finds them, I make no promises about what will happen.”

“Why the warning?”

The chain tightened, and Sendak leaned in to answer.  “Because I know that my chosen mate is not as lenient as I am.  You should remember that before you insult her again.”

Stubbornness kicked in.  “Shouldn’t you be upset that she was showing me off like I belonged to her?”

Belonging to either of them was the last thing he wanted, but if it was a choice between the two, Shiro would pick Sendak every time.  At least he knew where he stood.  Military rank and file, positions of power with titles earned and not simply born into.  While the Grand Duchess clung to her birthright, her status as a chosen mate, the commander was a force of quiet cunning and strength.  

“We are equals,” Sendak said.  His tone was resolute, and he pulled Shiro along into the suite proper  “She knows that you are mine.”

Columns of amber quintessence set in the rounded corners of the single room cast a warm glow over the walls.  Black curtains pooled around a single bed, which swung from chains wrapped in pink cloth.  The size of it left Shiro speechless.  Sendak himself was among the biggest Galra he saw while in captivity, but the bed could fit at least four of him in comfort.

He felt a warm paw grab the back of his collar.  “Wait a second, what are you-?”

Sendak tossed him onto the bed near the far side.  If he didn’t catch himself, he would’ve fallen clear off the edge.  Over his shoulder, he saw his chain leash linked to the hanging supports.  Shiro expected to be pounced on, but he was left alone.

Not that Sendak didn’t join him after detaching his left arm and shedding the rest of his armor.  He hauled himself onto the bed as well, and he motioned for Shiro to come closer.  When he didn’t move, Sendak smirked.  “Are you Galra, or are you prey?”

“I’m human.” Shiro scoffed.  “It doesn’t matter how many times you say I’m anything else, that won’t change.”

Still, he edged nearer.  It was either that or be dragged, and the idea of his new arm activating against his will wasn’t appealing.  Especially when the surface they rested on was suspended and left him feeling unsteady.  Of course, how the bed would hold up with a rutting wasn’t easier to think about, so he hoped he picked the lesser of two evils.

All for Sendak to take his right hand into his paw.  The pulse went from Shiro’s artificial palm to where the prosthetic met skin.  His arm went slack, unable to be lift or bend, and everything felt numb.  There wasn’t even phantom pain, just dead weight.

“We don’t need you killing us both in our sleep.” The commander rolled over, turning his back to him. ”Our training starts first thing tomorrow.”

“...That’s it?”

Sendak chuckled, not bothering to look back.  “Is that disappointment, Champion?  Or is that your heat nagging at you?”

Why was it that every time mating was insinuated, Shiro’s face turned bright red.  He curled up as best he could around his deactivated arm.  The commander sleeping so close to him was bad enough, but the warm light from the quintessence threatened to keep him awake for most of the night.

As soon as he thought it, the curtains were drawn around the bed.  It was only a glimpse, but he was sure he saw Bolide’s blue eyes.  He definitely heard them leave.  He was about to thank them when Sendak slung his right arm around him and pulled him in close.  Warm fur brushed against his exposed skin, and hot breath washed over the back of his neck.  A lick, that wasn’t quite affectionate but far from lustful, stopped short of his ear.

“Your dreams can’t reach you here…”

Was he really trying to reassure him?  Shiro didn’t know how to answer, but he was right.  Any echoes of Voltron were gone, whether drowned out by the columns of quintessence or his deactivated arm.  All he heard was the hum of the ship and felt the sway of the bed.  Rocking them both into a calm, uninterrupted sleep.


	13. Mysteries Upon Mysteries

“Watch your posture, don’t lock up.”

Shiro was beyond verbal answers.  He nodded, gasping for air like a panting dog, and took another stance.  Hindered by his limp right arm, his only advantage was Sendak went without his left claw.  The mutual handicap didn’t make a damn difference.

Armed with a traditional sword, Shiro charged in low.  His left wasn’t as strong as his right, before he lost it.  He still managed to follow through with the upswing.  The blade arched toward Sendak’s throat.  The commander dipped under the sword and buried his fist in Shiro’s gut.

“Too slow.”

Shiro sprawled across the training room floor.  His limp right arm took the brunt of the fall, sending hot sparks into the air.  The sword stayed gripped tight in his left hand.  A lesson learned in the arena, to never be without a weapon.  Another was to stay on your feet.  Their swords met in the middle and sheared the metal right off the edges.

They met each other’s gaze.  Sendak’s breathing was even and slow as if they weren’t in the middle of a sparring match.  It was infuriating.  He gave his all.  Maybe Galra didn’t sweat, but they damn well got ragged.

“We need to work on extending your reach, Champion.”

“You know damn well that I’m dealing with dead weight.”  Shiro lifted his right arm with his left hand, as if showing it to the commander would improve the quality of the message.  “I can’t just rip mine off.”

Sendak shoved him back onto the floor and held him there with his metal-toed boot.  “I think that was Haggar’s intent when she gave you that model.  I doubt she expected what you would do with it, but I did warn her.”

Shiro pushed him off and rolled onto his feet, sword in hand.  He admitted to himself he was angry.  He wouldn’t get a hit on an alien as experienced as Sendak, but he did know what to do with his anger.  Twisted into a fine point, it was a dagger.  Good for piercing and slashing.

Although his opponent was down an arm, it wasn’t like he was unaware.  If anything, that would make him pay closer attention to what attacks were coming towards that side.  Too bad there was also the cybernetic eye to worry about.  Come to think of it, was it all that special?  By the looks of the scar, it was an actual wound.  One that healed around the replacement eye.

He didn’t take a fighting stance.  Rather, he charged in head-on and whipped the heavy tip towards Sendak’s right shoulder.  Of course it was blocked.  Not before the momentum drove the blunt edge of Sendak’s sword into his chest piece.  Metal chips sprinkled the floor.

When they stepped away from one another, the actual damage was plain to see.  A wide but shallow gouge in the painted eye.  The same side that Sendak’s cybernetic replacement glared at him from.  Fitting, but Shiro wasn’t trying for symbolism.

Their weapons were thrown to the floor.  Where they rattled until they went still, and the two stood a respectful distance from one another.  Sizing each other up was pointless when Sendak was still the clear winner of the match.  Thank the gods he never took to the ring, or the undefeated half of Shiro's nickname would be lopped clean off.  The "once defeated champion" didn't have the same ring to it.

“You continue to surprise me, Champion.”

“It wasn’t exactly graceful.”

Sendak shook his head, a sure sign that he was amused.  “This is not a play, and we are not actors.  You earned your victory, small as it is.”

The commander earned a rare smile. “What now?”

Everything always came back to that question.  Where were the next hoops to jump through, and how high did he need to go?  Any answer was a bone, and the clearer the answer, the less he had to chew off it to understand.  Not that it mattered when he was too tired to play the game.

“Now, we rest until you can be steady on both feet.”  Sendak walked away, leaving Shiro behind with the discarded swords.  He only paused to reattach his left arm.  The pink quintessence lurched out from the prosthetic and fixed itself to the shoulder pauldron.  “I will return once I’ve spoken with my officers.  You will wait for me here.”

"Yes, sir."

The silence was eerie after the ringing of metal on metal was over.  Still, Sendak was a commander, and the rank married him to his duties.  The Galra weren't an idle race.  Even the mates had their own assignments.  After the sister wives stopped teasing him, Shiro would start more academic lessons.  History, politics, and culture first and foremost since he understood the basics of language.  A tour of the warship was sorely needed as well.

How often he forgot that the massive battleship maneuvered through space alongside the brothel.  Aside from the dining hall, there were no windows to stare out into the abyss.  If it wasn’t for the day and night lighting cycles, Shiro wouldn’t know whether to be awake or asleep.  Under the floodlights of the training room, he didn’t even know how long they were sparring.  His body was slick with sweat, and his throat was dry and raw.  Not the best ways of telling time.

He threw himself onto a nearby bench.  And used the crop top he threw there earlier to mop off the worst of the sweat off his face.  No water for his thirst, but no doubt Bolide was fetching some along with a change of clothes.  Best outcome was they showed up before Zara.

But the space didn’t leave anywhere for Bolide to tuck themselves into.  The ceiling was too high up, and the floor was wide and empty.  Maybe it was better if they didn’t come at all.  Their safety was one of his few concerns outside of himself.  The Holts besides.

A tile next to Shiro’s foot moved, and a new set of clothes and a bottle of water pushed out from under it.  Bolide’s blue eyes appeared for a split second, winked, and then disappeared again.  The tile moved back into place as if fixed to the spot.

“You are the cleverest little shit.”

It was a shame they wouldn’t sit with him, but Shiro understood.  Better safe than sorry, and besides, them hiding also meant he had a partner in crime.  They didn’t stand a chance in a physical confrontation, but Bolide was there, ready to bring him what he needed.

The water down, he examined the clothes.  With Sendak coming back, and more training sorely needed, he wasn’t going to change into them yet.  The fabric slipped over his fingers, and small polished stones were woven between the threads.  It was all one piece, but Shiro was suspicious.  He examined the arms, one missing of course, and then he checked the legs.

Or would have if they didn’t end in shorts cut to above mid-thigh.

Shiro hoped they heard him groan in disapproval.  “Bolide, is this _really_ the best you could find?”  No answer.  “Look, I’m sorry about the veils, but I couldn’t exactly throw those ladies off of me.”

“Do you often talk to yourself, Champion?  Or is it only when you think others can’t hear you?”

The masked figure was familiar, and not only in the robes they wore.  They shuffled towards him, paws tucked away from view, until they stood a sword’s length away.  Shiro felt their eyes on him, but their gaze wasn’t cruel or mocking.  It wasn’t even Haggar’s shrewd, clinical interest.  They looked out from the crude slits of the bronze mask and bowed with respect.

“You were the one who brought me here.” After he challenged Sendak for the first time.  “You actually spoke to me, when none of the others ever had.”

“I did not take you anywhere you did not belong,” they replied.  “You went where you needed to.  I have my orders to follow, and you have yours.”

“Then what orders bring you here?”  With Haggar on board, it didn’t make sense to send another Druid.  She preferred to keep her pet projects close, away from possible thieves and undoers, so for this interloper to be there was highly unusual.

They disappeared from sight, and they reappeared behind him, hands covering his eyes.  They wore thin black gloves.  Their touch was light, almost teasing.  “Why… I needed to see how far you’ve gone, Shiro.”

Hearing his own name left a rock in his throat.  One that sank past his heart and to the bottom of his stomach.  Outside of self-affirmation, he never told the Galra his name.  Maybe it was listed on a database for prisoners, but “Champion” became the name he answered to.  It was even written on Bolide’s skin, a sign of his ownership.  Hell, every time Sendak spoke to him, he wondered if that was what the commander thought was his actual name on earth, translated to the Galra language.

“Who _are_ you?” An unnatural growl burned in Shiro’s throat.  “How do you know me?!”

They disappeared, and his sight returned.  He didn’t even feel them step back from the bench.  Their movements were silent and unseen, but they didn’t even disturb the air around them.  True magic which he couldn’t wrap his mind around.  Much less understand.

His right hand burned with energy.  The pink light of surging quintessence flashed as the arm reactivated.  Crackling and snapping, fighting against the black magic which kept it under strict control.  Finally it stopped, and the prosthetic returned to its neutral mode.  Able to move but not trying to kill him or the Druid who overrode whatever Sendak did the night before.

Frenzied and confused, Shiro threw himself onto his feet and swiveled.  Trying to pick out how to best attack.  His wild black eyes scanned the scratched floor and then darted up towards the ceiling.  Nothing.  No light playing off of a cloaking device, and no blur of sudden movement.  The Druid was long gone.  Maybe they weren’t there at all, and this was another delusion.

“Bolide?”

The tile moved, and they crawled out from under it.  Their head turned in Shiro’s direction, and they blinked in confusion.  They waited for the rest of the question.

“Did you… did you hear anyone else come in here?”

For a moment, they simply continued to stare at him through their many veils.  They scratched their bronze horns, and then shook their head with a soft click of their teeth.  No, they heard nothing.  Aside from him talking to no one other than whatever self designed demons he had running around in his skull.

“Okay.  That’s okay then.” It wasn’t, but Shiro didn’t know how else to reassure them or himself.  “Thanks for the water, and the clothes.”

Flexing his working hand, he tried to rationalize the situation.  Clearly, he wasn’t in a good headspace, but few people would be under the same conditions.  One good night’s sleep wasn’t enough to repair a week’s worth of nightmares.  That morning, they didn’t eat much either.  The equivalent of bread and cheese with slices of root vegetables or tough fruit on the side.  Not much better than what they fed the gladiators in their cells.

The only part that was real was the fact his right arm was functioning.  He wasn’t able to activate the quintessence, but he could use it.  Possibly, Sendak allowed it to operate because he was taking longer than expected.  The handicap wasn’t necessary if there was no one there to hurt.  No scuffle to be had.

Putting it all in perspective, Shiro forgave himself for the hallucination.  Stress wrecked a lot of havoc, no matter where in the universe a person turned up in, and he preferred what just happened to the hell his new arm put him through.  He didn’t hurt himself.  The worst of it was yelling like a madman, but only Bolide heard his ravings.  They wouldn’t tell.

Shiro lifted one of the blunted swords with his right hand and an unsteady grip.  He gave it a few wide swings and tested his balance.  Unsteady to say the least, but it was far better than he expected in such a short time.  Only a month, and he gained enough familiarity with the new limb to make it combat worthy.

If he trained with Sendak, would he eventually surpass even his undefeated status?  Would he finally be greater than a mere gladiator?  The Galra at the soiree appeared to think so.

“Champion.”

Sendak spoke to him mid-arc.  He carried the swing through, and he tried greeting the commander.  Only to block an incoming claw, outstretched and snapping the sword in its grip.

Shiro slid across the floor but stayed upright.  His adrenaline spiked.  His blood pounded in his ears, his mind blank.  On instinct, he loosened the tension in his spine and prepared to dodge the next attack.  His eyes tried to meet Sendak’s, but it was already too late.

The commander was loping towards him, charging on all fours.  Lunging after planting his claw deep into the metal floor, crushing it like foil under his weight.  Not able to dodge, Shiro went limp rather than try and meet the assault head-on.

Together, they rolled with Sendak pinning his right arm behind his back.  Shiro screamed, the claw pinching a nerve in what was left of his original limb, and all the struggle went out of him.

Sendak snarled, face contorted with anger.   _“What did you do to this arm?”_

“It was a Druid!”  He swore and arched his back.  “The one who brought me aboard!”

“Do you mean to tell me that Haggar did this?”

“I don’t know their name!  They wore a mask, and…” No, he didn’t need to know about the rest.  “They came and went.  They didn’t say anything to me about it.”

Sendak leaned in closer as if trying to read his expression.  Watching for every twitch of the eye, quirk of the mouth, and drop of sweat.  Finding nothing to suggest a lie, he continued to growl and hauled Shiro to his feet.  In his rage, three new wounds decorated Shiro’s left shoulder.  They were shallow compared to others he earned, but the stinging was fierce.

“The one you saw is an imposter.” Sendak searched for them as well, as if anyone would lack the sense to run from him in this place.  “The brothel isn’t home to Druids, nor is my ship.”

“I thought I imagined it.”

“Only if also imagined a way to unbind yourself.”

The floor felt unsteady.  Shiro’s head was pounded, and a headache formed in the center of his forehead, spreading across to his temples.  He caught himself on Sendak’s arm, which kept his feet under him.  Rational thought was apparently the wrong approach because of course it was.  Everything had to come down to a fucking conspiracy, didn’t it?

“This will be discussed,” Sendak assured him.  “After Haggar has been notified, and we come to an agreement.”

“And what will happen to me?”

They stopped at the hatch.  Both of them wary but unsure of whether to trust each other.  After all, Shiro had every reason to betray his masters, and Sendak lost nothing if he stripped Shiro of his few privileges.  A gun to each of their backs, they continued the long walk to the warship.  An unspoken treaty between them until Haggar said her piece.

Sendak didn’t leave the question unanswered, though.  His tone was resolute, and a wry smile flickered on his lips.  “You are under my exclusive supervision,” he said.  “As my mate, there is no other who can protect you like I can.  Remember that.”


	14. Trust Issues

The arguments started before they even entered the warship.

As Shiro expected, the Galra kept protocol for espionage cases.  All military personnel, active or otherwise, reported to their most recent station to receive further instruction.  Social gatherings were permitted to continue as scheduled, but employees and attendees alike were confined to whichever banquet room they occupied.  The dining hall and baths weren't accepting guests, and those present were given a choice.  Either remain where they were or be escorted to their rooms, put on lockdown until further notice.

Any person found within the halls or unauthorized locations would be held subject to interrogation or immediate death.  Within the hour, over twenty arrests were made, and three fatalities.  According to the reports fed through to the commander, they were employees resisting arrest.  Whether that meant an actual struggle or questioning why they were being detained, Shiro didn’t want to ask.

Part of the problem was simple since they were aboard a bordello.  A business that, while an obvious den for sex, drugs, alcohol, and gambling, was equally involved in the trade of secrets and backdoor dealings.  An empire didn’t survive on open warfare and intimidation alone.  Although it read like a pulp fiction novel, the truth was conquest came in all forms.  Including spies, double agents, and the every alien trying to get by.

At best, larger military forces tolerated them as necessary evils.  At worst, during situations like this, they became enemy number one.  Decisions made quicker than skilled tongues changed minds.  It took seconds to pull a trigger and minutes to make a good argument.  A winner wasn’t clear, but the survivor was.

“Commander Sendak, I demand an explanation.  Especially since your soldiers certainly aren’t offering any to my clients or my staff.”

“Renaud, this ship is under martial law in the name of the Galra Empire.  Explanations aren’t necessary, at this or any time hence.”

The two leaders stood at eye level with one another, though Madame Renaud kept her face obscured by the bronze mask.  Its cheerful expression appeared cynical, and perhaps mocking, when paired with the chill in her voice.  Her arms crossed over her chest and lower torso, and her tail thrashed from side to side.

“Whether it is one of your footmen, your officers, or even you yourself, commander, I am addressed only as  _ Madame  _ Renaud,” she hissed.  “Now, tell me what business it is of yours to commandeer my ship.”

“My business,  _ madame _ , is that you are hosting a person impersonating as a druid.”  Sendak’s cold demeanor was as cruel as his sneer.  “Do you want to keep Haggar waiting?  I’m happy to tell her who kept us and why.”

Shiro thought both were above petty arguments, yet there they stood in a deadlock.  His own patience was gone after being eaten away by his own fears.  The sooner the immediate threat was dealt with, the sooner things started to make sense.

“The longer the three of us stand around, the more time this ‘druid’ has to lay low and disappear." He looked between them.  "Either we get to Commander Sendak’s ship to speak with Haggar, or we call this whole lockdown off.  Which is it going to be?”

Sendak scoffed, pushing past Madame Renaud who already chose to step back.  “We’re boarding regardless.  If she is as innocent as she claims, then the matter will drop on its own.”

After an apologetic nod, Shiro followed suit.  As grave as the situation was, the additional freedom boosted his mood.  More than what he could say about Sendak.

The soldiers were under the same scrutiny as the brothel employees.  They were given orders, but their eagerness to keep form was remarkable.  The androids he expected.  The troops, though, were just as willing to keep formation based on their training.  Shiro's fellow recruits at the garrison never showed such discipline.

Among the lower classes of the Galra, gender didn’t appear to distinguish who enlisted.  Of course in armor, they looked rather similar.  Whether they had fur or scales, their bodies were encased in metal, and their laser rifles carried at a low ready stance.  They nodded in deference to Sendak, but they didn’t deviate from their patrol.

“No sign of the intruder, commander.”

“Report any suspicious activity to your superior.”

As they passed, Shiro noticed two in the back grant him a half-salute as well.  The fondness was unsettling.

“Haggar is not far, Champion.”

“It’s not that I want to talk to her.”  His stomach knotted in agreement.  “It’s that we can’t risk a rogue druid.  Here or anywhere in the universe, really.”

It was the pragmatic reason.  Druids were the worst of the Galra, and even to their own kin, they were unknowable.  Alchemy was the only practice that Shiro could begin to wrap his mind around, and the chemicals and process were still foreign to him.  If one rogue agent among them unleashed their power for personal gain, more than the empire was at stake.

“Your priorities have my interest,” Sendak agreed.  “Another time, perhaps.  We’re approaching the laboratory, so prepare yourself.  You are Haggar’s main concern.”

“Lucky me.”

In the way of space magic, the laboratory was as much about following the movements within various solar systems and entire galaxies as it was chemistry.  Interactive maps filled large portions of the single room, but they walked through them with little difficulty.  Although a circle was cast across the floor, their footsteps barely disturbed it.  The black lettering dissolved and reformed as they passed.  The pattern stayed right where it was otherwise.

At the center, staring into a floating orb of molten metal, was Haggar.  If she knew the battleship around her was in chaos, she paid it little mind.  Perhaps she fed the swirling energies into the orb.  Neither Sendak or Shiro knew the purpose behind her experiment, the manipulation of the cosmos unknowable to soldiers like them.

“What brings you here, commander?” she asked.  “Have the night terrors started again?”

“No, although we considered that it might be a hallucination at first.”  Sendak stepped back from Shiro’s side.  “The Champion has news of a possible traitor in our midst.  I thought it best to bring him straight to you.”

She lowered her hands from beneath the orb and descended from a pedestal hidden under her robes.  Whether it was a sign of her age or caused by hours of magical practice, Haggar was hunched while she walked.  Her hood hung low over her face, and the glow of her yellow eyes had dimmed since they last spoke in the medical ward.  “Give me your arm, boy.”

“It isn’t the arm,” Shiro said.  Yet he did as she said.  “The problem is about the person who reactivated it.”

Haggar turned the arm over in her withered hands.  Her claws barely touched the silver surface, but she searched the black threads with great interest.  Pulling at them and activating the strings of quintessence.  “Everything is in working order.  I see nothing wrong.”

“With all due respect, Lady Haggar,” Sendak interrupted.  “I ask that you listen to what the Champion has to tell you.”

She glared at him before turning her attention to Shiro and reading his face.

He felt her impatience growing, so he continued.   “It was deactivated for our training.  The only one who should have gotten it working again was the commander, and I assume you."  He swallowed and pressed on.  "T he one who got it back online was another druid.”

“Lies,” she snipped.  “No other druids are aboard this or any of the vessels within this solar system.  The nearest member of our order is thousands of kilometers in the opposite direction.”

“If it’s a lie… ma’am, then it isn’t one that I’m telling,” Shiro replied.  “They wore the same robes as your fellow druids, and they moved in the exact same way.  They knew things that I haven’t shared with anyone else.”  His fingers curled, arm still held in her hands.  “When the quintessence spiked, the barrier shut it down again.”

Haggar scrutinized Shiro, but he saw the intrigue in her expression.  Her mouth was drawn into a straight line, and her brows knit together while she considered the possibilities.  “And you’re certain of what you saw.  Of what happened to this tool?”

“Yes.”

“And what do you have to say for yourself, Sendak?”  She finally let go of her prized experiment.  “Did you.shut down the program in the way I showed you?”

Sendak placed his massive claws over his chestplate.  “I did.  It was as you said, his prosthetic contains the same interface as my own.”

“Did you witness these events?”

“No.  I was tending to my duties as commander,” he explained.  “When I returned to the Champion, his arm was in operation.  He didn’t activate the quintessence because he hasn’t been trained to do so.  However, it regained basic functions."

“Which would be impossible without another party being present.”

The conversation was slow, but at least they were making progress.  Maybe Haggar was looking for a trick in the beginning.  With more of the story, she sounded less suspicious of them, and her tone became thoughtful.  She waved away the maps.

“Describe this supposed ‘druid’ to me, Champion.  I called no one to this place,” she said.  “They are either a poor attempt to sabotage me, or they heard of your visions.  No doubt the result of a few loose tongues aboard that drifting nest of harlots.”

Her bitter dismissal would’ve been right at home during the soiree.  Sendak referred to her as a ‘lady,’ so maybe she was as accustomed to the politics there as Zara and the others.  Shiro didn’t know how or when druids earned their positions, only that Haggar was the greatest among them.

“Like I said, they wore the robes,” he replied.  “They also wore a mask with two long slits either cut or burned into the metal.  There weren’t any carvings or jewels cut into it, just the holes for the eyes.  I think they wore black or very dark gloves.”

Haggar waved the back of her hand towards an empty wall, and the image of such a person appeared.  It spun around like a model, with the details added in the order that he shared them.

“They knew things that they shouldn’t,” she said.  “What were those things?”

“It was about my name.  Not my title, and not even my full name.”  That realization shook him harder the second time.  “They called me ‘Shiro.’”

Both the witch and the commander were silent.  It seemed that this was new information for them, which only confirmed Shiro’s assumptions.  Aside from the Galra who abducted the Kerberos team, no one ever saw or asked for their names.  They were assigned numbers at best.  He doubted the other aliens who shared their first holding cells bothered to remember the three humans as more than fellow prisoners.  He never remembered anyone but Sam and Matt from those early days, so the blame was mutual.

“I recognized them as the druid who brought me aboard Madame Renaud’s ship.”  He didn’t recall what they said to him then, but there was one other aspect which helped them stand out.  “They spoke to me, with an actual voice.”

Sendak’s ears swiveled to the front.  “They spoke to you, as a member of the order?”

“Your soldiers are daft,” Haggar hissed.  “Only I may speak, as is my  _ right _ .  It is written in the vows.”

“Perhaps they would know,” he conceded.  “If they were allowed, Lady Haggar.  With all due respect, the order has never been open with its traditions.”

She pivoted to face him.  Her robes billowed, and her hood fell back.  White hair, the back braided and decorated with beads of quintessence, spilled out and settled over her shoulders.  Her ears were not animalistic but long and pointed.  The age wasn’t only in her voice, but all across her face were thin and deep-set lines.  She looked wizened and bitter.

“Emperor Zarkon knows of our traditions and of our purpose,” Haggar said, like a warning.  “Our words are sacred, unlike the words of the military and the socialites.  I know the minds my siblings, and I speak in their place for the benefit of all.”

Kneeling and bowing his head, Sendak deferred to the druid’s anger.  “I wasn’t questioning, Lady Haggar.  I will investigate into who was assigned to the Champion prior to arriving at the bordello, and the report will be sent directly to you.”

“See that you do.”  Haggar covered her face and hair again, and she turned her back on them and the rest of the room.  “ Although the people do not always understand us, we are of the same race.  We inherit the same greatness, for the glory of Emperor Zarkon and the Galra people.”

“Thank you for your comforts.”  Sendak rose and held out his hand for Shiro to take.  “We return to the bordello.  If you need further assistance, send for me.”

“Mind the Champion,” she said.  “When we arrive at the sacred place, he will be more than your mate.  More than his name and title.”

They said nothing else as they parted ways.  The hatch opened and closed, and the march back to civilization began.  Sendak only paused at the nearest terminal to make an announcement to his officers.  His technicians moved aside from communications panel, listening with rapt attention as their superiors appeared alongside the center screen.

“Resume neutral patrol and withdraw the lockdown.  The investigation is open until further notice, and orders will be released as developments occur.”  His left eye narrowed.  “A debriefing will be arranged within the hour.”

“Understood, commander.”

Shiro waited until they were alone in the hall again.  It took a deep breath to help him through, but he finally asked the question that nagged at him.  “Who are the druids to the Galra?”

The answer didn’t come for a long time.  They didn’t pass any of the patrols, and the divide between the two ships was manned by two silent androids.  Shiro noted this for future reference.  Since they were complacent to their programming, they made easier targets than soldiers.  Their parts might be good for later use as well.  Then again, c onsidering that he was one arm closer to being an android himself, his opinion might change with another leg or so.

“Once, the Galra were divided into colonies," Sendak began in the middle of his thought.  "Those colonies were divided by orders.  Every order had a purpose, and the Galra lived according to that purpose.  Our lives chosen for us by one order greater than all the others...”

He opened a series of doors, hidden in the wall panels. “Emperor Zarkon would not be who he is now, if things remained the same.”

“What changed?” Shiro asked.  “The way you tell it, you think it’s more of a legend.”

The smirk returned to Sendak’s face as looked down on him.  “I do.  The real story is not mine to tell, but you asked about the druids.  They are one of the few lasting orders, aside from the military branch of our empire.”

“You think that has more to do with their disagreements?”

“It’s possible.”

They paused outside their quarters, and Sendak’s ears started to move.  They pinned forward and then swiveled while they sought the source of the sound.  His attention wasn’t on the ceiling or the floor, so it came from either end of the hallway.   Shiro didn’t distract him.

He felt a sense of unease drift over him as well, but Shiro didn’t know if it was his own intuition or feeding off of the commander.  Fear was contagious.

“They’re gone,” Sendak assured him.  “We don’t know for how long, or who they might be.”

“You’re sure it’s not Bolide?”

“Your servant?  No, this is something… other.”

Opening the hatch, there was nothing unexpected.  The bed didn't sway, and the curtains were as they left them.  Open on all sides and pooled underneath the soft mattress hanging from its chains.  Zara and the others were still gone, kept isolated like everyone else aboard the ship.

“A second lockdown would tip everything out of balance,” Shiro argued.  “Let it go for now.  Keep your word, look into the night I was brought to Madame Renaud’s.  Treat it like a proper investigation, not a lynching.”

He wanted to confront the false druid too, but not at the cost of pitting the three factions against each other.  Yes, it gave him time to plot his own escape.  At the cost of extra security, including an order to shoot to kill, and the accused might use him as a scapegoat.  Reveal themselves and claim they were a distraction rather than an instigator.

Did they know his motivations better than he did?

“I’ll keep that in mind... Shiro.”  Sendak pushed him forward and into the suite.  “Just remember who your superiors are and what your business is.  No more dwelling on phantoms.”

Easier said than done with Shiro left alone.  He hated to admit it, but he hoped the sister wives wouldn’t be kept any longer than necessary.  Pacing wasn’t going to keep his mind quiet, and the yellow lighting made him ill.  The safest places, where Bolide hid, were too small for a human to fit.

He crawled onto the bed and pulled the curtains closed.  Like a child cshutting out the monsters lurking in his room.  A ringing started in his ears, and he couldn’t decide between keeping his eyes closed or open.  Both options felt like they made him too vulnerable.  He settled on keeping them open, staring into the swirling patterns across the bedding, until they blurred.

Whatever the sacred place that Haggar spoke of was, Shiro hoped it was nothing like here.


	15. Giving into Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Specific Warnings for This Chapter:
> 
> Alien and Human Sex  
> Alien Pussy  
> Character Corruption  
> Clawing (Scratching)  
> Daddy Talk  
> Implied Age Difference  
> Prostitution

Day cycles came and went, and Shiro resumed training in earnest.  Although the druid crisis stayed in the back of his mind, plenty of distractions pulled him away.  For one, his muscles screamed at him every morning and evening, and for another, he spent the between hours with his fellow mates.  Which left him mentally drained as much as it amused his teachers.

“Chin up, dear.”  Sennar corrected his posture, both the position of his head and his shoulders.  “You don’t want to waste a jawline like that.”

“And it’s important to keep your chest open, followed by deep breaths,” Demar added.  “You’re a warrior, yes?”

“A soldier.”

She laughed and motioned for him to keep his wrists off the table while eating.  “A warrior nonetheless, just one that is paid.”

“Ladies, mind the pedantics.”  Zara sat at the center of the table and to his right.  “Our new family member has done well for himself in the past few days, but we must keep up.  He has a lot to learn in so little time.”

Zara sat like a true queen while overlooking the dining hall.  Her silhouette was magnificent, and her manners impeccable.  Her legs tucked to the side spoke of her grace, and her back remained straight without appearing stiff.  The crystal crown and matching necklace caught the light and sprinkled the table with their reflections.  They granted her a glow all her own.

Although Shiro was still learning, he never caught Zara faltering in her presentation.  The others were natural in their mistakes.  Easily masked, their movements were fluid, and if he wasn’t learning himself, he wouldn’t catch them in the act.  Perfection wasn’t necessary, but he was determined to meet what Zara had.

The basics were easy to remember when explained once or twice.  Meals came after physical training but before formal classes, and the standard was five courses.  Some differences between the formal dinners on Earth and the Garla caught his attention.  Soup, for example, wasn’t in their culinary arts.  Instead, they started with an uncooked dough that had the consistency of taffy, and it tasted light and savory.  Fish was served next, followed by the main course, and then dessert.  They finished off with fungi instead of cheese, but otherwise, Shiro found it familiar.

Special occasions, they told him, involved as many as fifteen to twenty courses, but dining was spread out evenly throughout an entire day.  Zara and Sennar assured him that even the Galra found sitting for hours on end to be abysmally boring.  Such events involved plenty of dancing and even duels.  Both were non-lethal, or so they promised.

“Shiro, you need to stay in the conversation,” Zara scolded him.  “If your opinion is needed, you should know what’s discussed.”

“Understood.  It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you.”  Temma continued.  “As I said, there’s whispers throughout the empire.  The elders are excited-”

“As they should be,” Sennar agreed.

“Yes, sister, but the problem is what will happen if the druids are wrong.”  A waiter refilled Temma’s glass.  “What if Shiro is an oracle, not… well.”

“If I’m not what?” Shiro asked.  “All I heard from Haggar was that we’ve changed our coordinates to a ‘sacred place.’  What is it?”

The wives turned to look to Zara for an answer.  He noticed they sought her opinion first when the question was deep in their culture.  Unlike their manners, they willingly admitted their knowledge was lacking.  He admired that more than telling blatant lies.

“The site itself has no formal name,” Zara explained.  “The druids claim it was once a stop along a five-part pilgrimage, before the empire as we know it formed.  It's the only temple of its kind left.  The others destroyed in the days of Altea.”

Shiro flinched as the sister wives growled in unison, but their grand duchess silenced them with her outstretched paws.

“As I understood the transmissions, the druids consider this a trial for you.  They wish to see if the ‘Champion’ is worthy of being granted a new title.” Her smile was approving.  “If you succeed, they will call you ‘Paladin.’”

Sennar, usually never one to interrupt Zara, gasped and covered her mouth in shock.  She didn’t look offended, but the surprise made Shiro curious.  Demar and Temma were also on the edge of their seats.  After a dramatic enough pause, Zara explained the importance to him.

“Only one Galra holds that title at the moment,” she said.  “That is, our beloved and exalted Emperor Zarkon.  The druids call him the Black Paladin, and they aim to give you a similar title.  That of the Red Paladin… if the beast will have you.”

Black and Red, Shiro thought.  If he was right, the other three titles belonged to the Blue, Yellow, and Green Paladins.  A soft hum in the back of his mind confirmed it.  Voltron wasn’t easily forgotten.  The memory of the visions was more than enough to piece together why Haggar was so intrigued with him.

“I’m assuming they didn’t tell you all of this,” he said.  “You’ve been digging for information, haven’t you?”

Zara snickered, the most unladylike behavior she allowed herself before dessert.  “Yes, that I have.  The moment I heard what happened to you in the medical center, I knew the old witch started plotting.”

“Sister, please do not antagonize her,” Demar pleaded.  “Sendak has told you before that it isn’t necessary.  She’s no threat to any of us.”

“How can you say that, Demar, when Shiro is one of ours?” she asked.  “Is he not worth fighting for?”

He doubted that he was all that valuable to Zara.  Judging from what the other mate said, this wasn’t the first time she involved herself in Haggar’s business.  It was likely the druid was aware of her snooping, but whether she said anything to Sendak was dubious at best.  Their relationship was far from comradery.

“If that’s the trial the druids have set for me, then I accept,” Shiro replied.  “Not that I’ve been given a lot of choice in much of anything so far.”

“And what choice would you like to have?” Zara challenged.  “Two fine meals a day, hot baths at your leisure, and a warm bed every night.  While aboard one of the finest vessels this side of the universe.”

Sennar came to his defense.  “I think there’s only one thing for it.  If such simple pleasures are not to his taste, then perhaps-”

Temma’s eyes shown with devious glee.  “Oh you don’t mean…?”

“Oh yes,” Demar said.  “I think she does.”

“We allow him to partake?” Zara finished.  “I suppose it’s a fair choice, given that we are aboard a bordello.  I admit, I’m interested in what a human looks for in a mate.”

“This still isn’t giving me a choice in much of anything.”

“Nonsense.”

Sennar wrapped her arm around Shiro’s shoulder and pulled him close.  Her perfume was as teasing as her grin, and she brushed her claws over his cheek.  Using a tablet, rather old tech by the ship’s standards, she drew up a list of available prostitutes.  All while staying draped over him like a perverted shawl.

He wasn’t a prude himself, but scrolling through the listings made his skin crawl.  Coy smiles and sultry pouts harkened Shiro back to late nights spent leeching off the garrison’s piss poor internet connection.  The resolution was higher, but otherwise, the images weren’t too shocking.  Multiple eyes, split tongues, and the standard tentacles were on full display.

Although Shiro was still relieved that the selection screens kept the genitalia involved discreet.  Galra and humans were compatible in ways that were uncomfortable but certainly not nightmare fuel.  Not that he dealt with yet anyway, the breeding season was months off.

“What do you think?” Sennar asked.  “Anyone catch your eye?”

“No.”  His look was as flat as his tone.  “Besides, won’t the commander be leaving his station soon?”

To his surprise, she bit the top of his ear while her hand snaked down to his groin.  “What’s this?  You’ve finally grown fond of your mate?”

“I’ve just learned what to expect.”  This was safer.  “Some risks aren’t necessary and just cause more trouble.  I’m marked, and everyone knows who I belong to.”

Zara stroked his hair as she might a pet.  “Loyalty is a virtue.  He’ll be pleased, I think, to know that you hold his affection in such high regard.”

She was welcome to twist it however she wanted.  As he said, Shiro resigned to his current fate.  That and there was enough worry over Bolide.  If by some miracle or twist in fate he got attached to anyone else, escape would get more complicated.  His body was littered with old wounds, so after he got far enough away, the scar over his nose would be meaningless.

The map of the brothel was clear in his mind after living there as long as he did.  Before, he moved with the other gladiators from ship to ship, and every time he relocated, there was a new layout.  Galra warships were notorious for their varied interiors.  If they were boarded, good luck to whatever sorry bastards thought to charge in with guns blazing.  Especially without a decent hacker or technician on their crew to find possible exits.

“Say, since we insisted you bathe with us before dinner… why don’t we go back to the bedroom after this?”

“A wonderful idea, Sennar.”

Nothing more was said while they rounded out the fourth and fifth courses.  No one corrected Shiro’s posture, or how he deliberately used the wrong utensil when plucking Bolide’s favorite mushrooms from the tray.  Though he was sure he saw Zara scold him with only her eyes and pursed lips  While they finished their last cocktail, he stared off into literal space.  The immense windows of the dining hall looked out over a red and brown planet, with only the thinnest slivers of grey on its surface.

Like an ocean liner past an unpopulated island, the bordello drifted on without ceremony.  By the time it disappeared from view, the sister wives were tugging his leash along back toward shared quarters.  Not the first time he slept beside them, but their cruel playfulness reminded him of the first time they met at the baths.  All long canines and roaming hands, giggling among themselves as they whispered their plans to one another.

Not even a minute through the door, and they undressed themselves and him.  Stepping out of their gowns, which were left pooled across the smooth tiles, they were irreverent.  All pretense of sophistication gone.  They laughed while discarding their jewelry around the floating bed.  Together, Demar and Temma pulled Shiro onto the blankets with them.

Across Temma’s lower back were white spots, but they faded since he last saw them.  She caught him staring and tucked one leg up higher than the other, to better show off her the few curves her petite frame allowed for.  She stared back at him with half-lidded, yellow eyes.

“You know... I haven’t done a thing with the commander,” she said.  “Do you know why?”

Although Demar kissed between between his shoulder blades and pulled herself closer to him, Shiro stayed right where he was.  Lying on his left side, he humored the youngest of the wives.  “How about you tell me.”

She started to purr and wrapped her leg around his.  “Because I can tell that you’re a real nice daddy.  You could be so mean if you wanted to… but you’re not.”

Temma pulled Shiro into a kiss, right when Demar started to stroke him.  Both of their thin soft fur brushed over his skin and metal parts, and he did a little more than just humor them.  His right hand rested on Temma’s hip, and he kissed Demar over his shoulder.

Was this giving into madness, or was it surviving?

Kisses trailed down his neck and claws gently raked over his chest.  All familiar territory.  He wanted to blame it on his intolerance for heavy liquor, but the warm feeling wasn’t across the back of his neck.  It was right at his groin, spreading over his lower torso and thighs the more affection was lavished on him.

Their kisses turning to licks, and licks turned to nipping at his most sensitive places.  The young ladies worked him up into a fervor.  Until he had Temma laid on her back and legs spread wide.  She yelped with glee and her short mane fell on the bed under her.

“Maybe I spoke too soon~”

“Maybe you did.”

For the second time, Shiro kissed her without hesitation, with earnest.  His tongue glided over her bottom lip, asking for entrance, and she happily let him.  Her tongue batting at his while he avoided her sharp teeth.   Mewling with delight.

Temma squirmed under him.  Her wet slit brushed over his hardened cock as she silently pleaded with him to satisfy her.  He made her wait, only teasing her with his tip.  As expected, it wasn’t long before she started to while.

“Oh please, Daddy… don’t make me wait.”  She gasped with need.  “I promise I’ve been good, so please.  Please give it to me.”

“You need to tell me what you want,” Shiro replied.  “I can’t give ‘it’ to you when I don’t know what ‘it’ is.”

Desperation settled in Temma’s expression, her lips parted with want and her eyes searched his.  “Fuck me,” she whimpered.  “Please fuck me, Daddy.”

“That’s a good girl.”

Shiro gave exactly what she wanted.  Buried his cock in her pussy and let her barbs hold him there.  Her claws dug into his shoulders, and her back arched to take more of him inside.  Together, they found a rhythm that suited them.  Hips locked, foreheads rested against each other, they fixed their gaze.  Him thrusting as hard and deep as her body allowed, even while she begged him to reach deeper.  Pound harder.

The cry of her release made his ears ring, and Shiro’s mouth found hers just to quiet her down again.  Temma tightened her grip until she drew blood.  And still he kept at pushing her to a second orgasm.  His heels dug into the bed under them, and he felt the whole bed sway.

Her walls weren’t even trying to hold him anymore.  “I-Is this how you lay _all_ your mates?”

“When I’ve had enough of everything else... then yes.” Shiro hiked her legs around his waist, sitting up on his knees and taking her with him.  “This is how I do things.”

Whether it was the certainty in his voice or the abrupt change in position, the young Galra went limp against his chest.  Much in the way he had with Sendak the first time.  Her arms draped around his neck, she rode him through another shuddering climax.

One that brought him to the same.  Shiro came inside of her even while bouncing her in his lap.  A growl of his own started in his chest, and she bit his neck in return.  Not hard enough to draw blood, but she held on until they were equally spent.

“God, I needed that."  He wasn’t sure why he was grateful, but the relief washed over him nonetheless.  “That was...”

Although Shiro was well aware of the sister wives, his eyes widened in embarrassed horror.  At the head of the bed, was Sendak.  His right paw’s fingers buried inside Zara’s slit, while Sennar pleasured him with her mouth.  He felt all three pairs of eyes on Temma and himself.

“Relax, soldier.”  Sendak’s laugh was eerily genuine.  “Savor your conquest… for the night is still young.  As are we.”


	16. Darker Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sinful Shendak as promised, but be warned, this chapter gets right in the face of past traumatic events. There were hints in previous chapters, but this gets to the heart of the matter.
> 
> Specific Warnings for This Chapter:
> 
> Alien Dick  
> Alien and Human Sex  
> Bloodplay  
> Dub-Con  
> Flashbacks of Past Sexual Abuse of a Minor  
> Human Blood  
> Rape/Non-Con  
> Rough Anal Sex  
> Victim Self-Blame

As Shiro looked on with Temma curled up at his side, the others continued their affair.  Sendak lavished attention on his chosen mate while Sennar continued to pleasure him from below.  Her moans only got louder after Demar buried her face between her senior’s legs.

“You could always join them,” Temma said.  “I’m sure they would love it if you did.”

“I’m sure they would too,” Shiro agreed.  “But not now.  There’ll always be time later.”

Not that he intended to make good on it.  Even at the garrison, he was inclined to sit back from the action and watch.  When so many bodies were in motion, it felt unnecessary to add another.  Although Demar was clearly desperate, leaving herself available to him, he stayed put.  Temma stroked his growing length with her paw.

“You want him, don’t you?”  She grinned up at him.  “You want your Big Daddy, because it’s been too long.”

Shiro side-eyed her.  “And how would you know?”

She hummed and circled the head of his cock with a single claw.  Out of all four of the other mates, he actually trusted her not to hurt him.  “Because every night, you make sure you’re the one closest to him,” she said.  “He knows what you want, just like you knew what I wanted.

“But it’s more fun when they beg for it… isn’t it?”

A wavering moan ended their conversation.  Zara was limp against Sendak’s side while her thighs trembled, and he withdrew three thick fingers from inside her.  Only to push Sennar’s head further onto his cock.  His eyes met Shiro’s when his came.  It felt like he was looking through him to find out what did or didn’t work.

Shiro’s face grew hot, and he looked away first.  He didn’t even glance towards them a second time when Sennar sat up, ordered to show her mate that she swallowed the load.  If she was unsatisfied, she didn’t complain.  Neither did Demar.

Temma whispered to him again.  “If you continue to please him, you might have a chance.”

Of course it was obvious that Shiro still wanted to escape.  One moment of weakness didn’t mean that he was complacent, or that he wanted this new life.  She was right, though.  Enough trust on Sendak’s part, and he might be able to free himself and even Bolide.  Having a damn good partner by his side was better than navigating the universe alone.

Biting down on his pride, Shiro crawled to where Sendak lay surrounded by the other mates.  They watched him approach, with Zara whispering in the commander’s ear.  Their devilish grins grew wider when he straddled Sendak’s lap.

“Is there anywhere else we could go, sir?” he asked.  Playing demure didn’t come naturally, but he tried.  “I don’t… I’m not used to all this.”

“So that’s why you stopped.”

“I don’t want to stop.”  What a fucking lie.  “Not yet.”

Zara rested her head on Sendak’s shoulder and draped an arm over his chest.  She never looked away from Shiro, and she even winked at him.  “Darling, he’s been waiting for you since dinner.  He wouldn’t even pick a date to tide him over until you arrived.”

“Such loyalty.”

She laughed.  “Why don’t you take him down to that club you like so much?  Show him your favorite dancers, enjoy the evening together?”

Sendak sounded resigned, but he solemnly nodded in agreement.  “So long as the rest of you can make do without us.”

The other three mates were clearly unhurt by the news.  Demar even started to purr, and Sennar scratched under her chin, which made the purring grow louder.  “Oh, we have ways to entertain ourselves.  Give the Champion a treat, and we’ll be here when you both come back.”

“If they do.”

Sendak shifted his weight to move off the side of the bed, and Shiro followed.  He started to pick up his discarded clothes before Sendak stopped him, throwing a swath of cloth at his head.  It was meant to be an accessory.  A piece so small that it barely wrapped around his waist, and it covered less than even the shorts Bolide gave him days ago.

The commander, meanwhile, was already dressed in his under armor with his arm reattached.  “Where we’re going isn’t far.”

Passing patrols no longer embarrassed Shiro, but the closer they got to the club in question, the more people they came across.  None of which he recognized from elsewhere on the ship, not directly, although he felt their eyes follow him.  He swore he heard them whisper among themselves, debating whether he was the Champion.  No one thought it could be anyone else.  He tried his best to avoid meeting their gaze.

Sendak walked straight past the line and security, and not one person complained.

The club itself was not far from what Shiro expected.  For once, the lighting was appropriate with its flashing colors and sharp shadows, and the music carried a beat.  Although it wasn’t one that a human could follow since it didn’t keep with his pulse.  Sweat soaked dancers lifted their legs up and around stage poles, and patrons ground against one another in tandem on the dance floor.  And every person held a glowing cocktail.

All the alien bartenders were gifted with multiple limbs and tentacles, and they mixed and stirred without a single break.  No currency was visibly exchanged, but Shiro could see the rolling numbers on their visors.  Credits approved by the empire no doubt.  The numbers were in the thousands this time of night.

“This way.”  Sendak’s voice was barely audible above the music, and he pulled Shiro with him.  “I don’t want you down here.”

Too easy for him to slip away, Shiro figured.  The thought crossed his mind, but the music was too disorientating.  That and good luck if he tried to find the way out.  Glancing behind them, the crowd filled in the space they left, and the wall art blended in with the hatch.  No bouncers in sight, though.  If they ever came back to this club, he would remember.

The private booths were above the ground level, same as in the dining room.  The stairs were carpeted with small green lights lining each step.  Portraits of famous patrons hung throughout the narrow hallway leading to their booth, but few were Galra.  Maybe they were celebrities from a time before the empire conscripted the bordello into its service.  It was too dark, and Sendak’s hold on his leash got shorter.

A staff member appeared and then disappeared out of the room.  With a slow glance above him, Shiro looked at Sendak.  “What was that about?”

“You can’t honestly say that you plan to wear that the whole time we’re here, can you?”

He raised an eyebrow.  “Since when do you care what Bolide dresses me in?  If this is your sense of style, I still prefer theirs.”

That got an honest chuckle out of Sendak before he pushed him in headfirst.  “Just go, Champion.  I haven’t got time for your smart mouth.”

The room was cold, and the wall opposite the door was nothing but a one-way mirror.  This side looked out onto the dance floor and the suspended cages above it.  Empty but swinging.  When he turned, the first thing he saw was the harness laid out across the couch.  If that was here, then where…

The muzzle slipped over his face, and Shiro’s eyes went wide as he looked to see Sendak smirking down at him.  “I trained you better than that.”

“Never turn your back, I know.”

Sendak pulled the straps and cinched the belt.  “Yet that’s exactly what you did.”

He kicked Shiro’s legs out from under him, front half pressed against the couch and arms twisted behind his back.  Although he knew how to get free of the hold, his struggle was nothing but show.  Hell, his arm was still fully functional.  He let the harness fall over his shoulders and his arms be laced together.  The leash pulled tight as Sendak inspected his muzzle.

“One last piece.”  He kissed him through the leather.  “I wanted to make good on my promise, even it came a bit late.”

He spread Shiro wide and ran his fingers over his behind.  Still more chain dragged across the floor, from under the couch, but Sendak wouldn’t let him look.  Not that he needed to see what it was after the cold touch of metal wrapped around his ankles.  Chained to a bar.  No wonder Sendak assured him that a simple wrap around his waist was more than enough clothing.

But the inevitable didn’t come just yet.

“I’m going to take in this sight.”  Sendak circled him once and reclined on the sofa beside him.  Kicking up his feet and resting them across Shiro’s back.  “Let it linger.”

“I’d like to remind you that you’re an ass.”

“And you would be right.”

Reclined back, Sendak took his time in pouring his liquor and adding the quintessence.  While the two settled and divided in the glass, he reached for his other personal treat.  A cigar, judging by the way he clipped the end and lit it, and the smell as the smoke filled the room was unmistakable.  Although the purple color was a change of pace from the garrison’s officers lounge. It didn’t help his eyes water any less.

“Tell me, Shiro.  Why is it that you fight your hardest in the ring, but you hold back in the bedroom.”  Sendak blew a line of smoke straight into his face.  “It isn’t mere survival, is it?”

After a short coughing fit, punctuated by swears, Shiro glared at him.  “I never held back.  That was the whole reason you had to muzzle me in the first damn place.”

“Not because I thought you would bite me.” Sendak’s right paw lifted his chin and tightened its hold.  “But because it suited you.  All this is hopelessly familiar to you, and still, you try to deny it every step of the way.”

The bar dug into his ankles when Shiro tensed.  Arms restrained or not, he still forced himself onto his feet, and he glared Sendak down.  “Until I told you, you didn’t even know my name.  Don’t act like you know what my life was like before this place.”

“What was your rank then?”

“I was a pilot, senior airman.”  Why it mattered, he wasn’t able to guess.  Rank differed between countries, let alone between planets, and everything was stripped from him anyway.  “When we came back from our mission, I would be advanced to sergeant.”

Sendak considered this while tasting his drink.  The other half of the cigar rested on the edge of the glass ashtray, but the room was still wreathed in smoke.  Outside the one-way window, a private dancer used the bars of the suspended cage like a pole.  She was lithe, almost human-like, except for her lavender fur and yellow eyes.  She was also the first Galra Shiro remembered actually working in the brothel rather than enjoying it.

“A waste,” the commander muttered.  “You deserved a higher rank from the beginning.  You were capable of more, and they sent you away to a gods forsaken planet.  One not even worth the druids’ time.”

“That planet was as far as humanity ever got into space.”

“Even more pathetic…  The last hope for an ancient race, and your kind can’t reach past their own solar system.”  Sendak set his drink aside and rose up to push Shiro back onto his knees.  “But I think I understand now, the reason you’re like this.”

“We both know what we’re here for.”

“You would rather be fucked than talk about it, I know.”  He slipped his claws into the cleft of Shiro’s ass.  “It’s not begging, but I’ll stop making you wait any longer.  Just remember, that this is what _you_ wanted.”

Two fingers forced their way up inside and started to stretch him.  Make him ready for the main event.  After so long, the pain was fresh again.  As if Shiro’s body could forget what happened, even though the rest of him couldn’t.  Without the visions of Voltron, his nightmares would’ve been full of other, darker things.  Not just Sendak but everything that came before.  His superior officers mostly, but they weren’t the only ones.

The rough tongue over the small of his back helped him forget.  The left claw took a hold of his leg and dragged him closer, until he felt Sendak’s hardened cock against his thigh.  The barbs were firm and grated over his skin.  Hot breath poured across his shoulders, and he lowered his upper body.  His hips rising to meet his mate’s.

“I’ll pound out every last one of those thoughts,” Sendak promised.  “No one owns you but me… and no one cares for you like me.”

“So do it,” Shiro replied.  “Like the first time, go ahead and use me.”

His left leg burned as the individual metal claws dragged across skin and muscle, and the blood started to flow.  The first fresh wound he was given outside of the training grounds in ages.  He felt his own cock harden, and for once, he didn’t try to deny it.  He gave the order.  That was his own doing, his own power.

“As you say, Champion.”

The barbed cock was still difficult to take even when he was ready for it.  The head was too thick for a dry hole, but Sendak put his full weight behind the thrust.  Snarling after Shiro’s body didn’t give right away.  He rolled his hips before slamming them hard forwad.

“S-shit.”  Shiro arched his back and tried to relax everything else.  “This isn’t going to work.”

“Oh, I’ll make it work.”

His hair was snatched in Sendak’s right paw, while the left pulled him onto the throbbing cock.  His own fingers curled and gripped the leather restraining his arms.  For a moment, they stayed that way.  With the Galra buried to the hilt inside his prey while preparing him for the agony of another thrust.

Shiro surrendered complete control to the beast looming over him.  He matched the staggering rhythm as best he could despite the harness and the bar.  Allowing himself to be ground into the floor until he bit his cheek.  The taste of his own blood on his tongue.

He twisted his body around.  All he saw in that glimpse was Sendak’s sneer, and he was pitched forward.  Splitting his lip in the process.

“I tell you when to look at me.”

He growled in defiance, and his muscles strained against the assault.  His insides being dragged along the barbs that held the large cock fast.  The metal claw wrapped around his own aching length, and a moan of desperate want passed over Shiro’s lips.  The grip was light.  He could roll his hips and feel his dick glide over the cold surface.  The only warmth came from his own heat.

“Like now.”  Sendak turned his head by his hair.  “Look at me, and know that I’m the reason you came.  It was my power that did this, not yours.”

Shiro’s eyes weren’t empty and vacant.  He felt them burning, and that feeling grew the closer he came to tipping over the edge.  This alien monster, both like and unlike anything he imagined, was fucking him senseless.  He could crush him in an instant.  Choke him, cut him, beat him… anything to get him to submit.

And part of him wanted it done, just so he could survive that too.

It was that thought, and a few more strokes, which pushed Shiro to cum.  Eyes rolled back into his head and legs shaking.  His body felt numb from there on out, utterly spent, and still Sendak kept at him.  Working him harder and faster until he finally started to beg.  Nothing that was heard through the muzzle, but the exact words weren’t important.  Not quite broken but weakened.

The claws tangled in Shiro’s hair let go.  They brushed over his cheek and unzipped the front of the muzzle, and cold air rushed into his lungs.  He gasped as if he was struggling to breathe.

“And now you’re going to clean up your own mess,” Sendak hissed.  “Every last drop of it.”

Like an eager pup, Shiro ran his tongue over the metal.  He tasted his own salt and the bitterness left by Temma not even an hour ago.  There was also the buzz of quintessence.  Not a taste but felt through the palm.

Sendak groaned and pinned his mate, and his seed filled the obedient gladiator.  Who for once simply knelt and took every pulse of cum.  The suspicion he had was right.  This was the boy that the Champion truly was, this was the “Shiro” he declared himself to be.  On his knees and lapping at his own cum because that was the order he was given.

“Stay there, until I want more of you.”  He gave the boy’s ass a hard smack and zipped up his muzzle again.  “Don’t move, don’t even speak.”

Despite himself, and all the voices in his head screaming at him, Shiro nodded.  In his throat, the words “yes, sir” begged to be said, but he stayed quiet.  He did exactly what he was told and said nothing.  He stayed on his knees while his upper body lay on the floor.

Sendak propped his legs up on top of Shiro like before.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the quintessence dropped into the glass, followed by liquor poured to the brim.  The commander watched the dancer, and he reclined back on the couch to enjoy his drink.  A fine start to a night full of hedonism with only himself and his mate, the favored Champion.

The bar kept his legs spread apart, and he watched the black cum make its way down his leg.  He pictured what might happen next.  Some from memory, but they were only half-remembered.

Lashed to a desk by a belt threaded through a chair, so the harder he pulled, the more stuck he was.  Once, he dislocated his shoulder.  The sergeant, whose name never stuck, didn’t stop and blamed Shiro for it.  Reprimanded him with a swift blow to the back of his head.  If he just stayed put, it wouldn’t have happened.  He was lucky he didn't give a concussion.  He would for sure if he said anything.

As a cadet, he learned how to pop his own arm back into place. As an airman, he also learned how to get free of most restraints.  When he became first class, no one held him unless he let them.  All that time, he never said a word to anyone about what happened.  What he survived.

If he wanted to, Shiro was able to get out of the damn harness from the start, but he didn’t.  Because Sendak was right.  He was  _that_ kind of soldier, the one who knew his place, and who stayed there.  It was his choice to make, and Takashi Shirogane chose to remake himself as the exact same person.  No, that was wrong.  This time, he was going to reinvent himself into a stronger and better soldier...

Maybe even a commander.


	17. Stronger Bonds

As effective as Bolide’s salves were, the wounds on Shiro’s leg didn’t heal over like he hoped.  Anymore new scars and he would be unrecognizable.  None of the sister wives mentioned it, unless his bandages needed changing.  They knew of course, but this time they chose tact over pettiness.  It was a sign of solidarity.  He started to wonder if they somehow knew about his change of heart.

“Am I wrong, Bolide?”  Shiro set his foot onto the training room floor to test how well his bandages would hold.  “I shouldn’t be getting this deep.”

They shook their head and patted his thigh.  Their amusement was obvious, judging by their grin hidden under the veils, but they weren’t poking fun at him.  They almost looked resigned, like they saw others fall down the same hole.

While Shiro drifted off in thought, Bolide rested their head on his hip in a half-hug.  The slight change in weight snapped him out of his spiral.

“I know we don’t always have time to talk, but I'm  glad that you’re here.  It helps.”

They smiled up at him, but as always, they didn’t like to stay in one place for long.  They crawled over his lap and across the bench.  Although nimble, Bolide was strong as well.  Able to push aside the floor tile and slip under, and after a few minutes, they reemerged.  Holding a small bottle which was half-full of a black liquid.  It didn’t move like liquor, and when they opened the top, there wasn’t a smell.

Bolide motioned for him to sit still while they sat on his lap, facing him.  Their bright blue eyes were intent on his, and Shiro instinctively leaned back..

“Do I even want to know what you’re doing?”

They held up a tiny, narrow brush and waved it in front of his face.  And made a line in front of both eyes.  Then everything clicked in his head.

“Eyeliner?”

After Bolide finished coating the brush, they stared him down a second time.  With a sigh, Shiro closed his eyes and let them do what they felt was necessary.  He wasn't inexperienced with makeup.  If they weren’t so determined, he would’ve been able to do it himself.  All he needed was a mirror.

They tapped his forehead once the job was done.

“Well?  How’s it look?”

“Judge for yourself.”

Between them, one of the training swords appeared less than inch from Shiro’s face.  When he jerked back from his reflection, the back of his head met Sendak’s lower torso.  Bolide didn’t flinch.  Damn both of them for messing with him at every opportunity.  That said, the alien was able to match the strokes of winged eyeliner.  Impressive.

“After your first draught of raw quintessence, you’ll look even more like a Galra,” Sendak said.  “Is that what you look forward to, or dread?”

“That depends on what comes after.”

“What comes after hasn’t been decided yet.”  He lifted the sword and let it fall to the floor behind the bench.  “Stand up.  You’re ready to learn how to really use that arm of yours.”

Which meant no deactivation, and Sendak’s left arm was still locked in place.  The choice in timing was strange since their training together was rather new.  It didn’t feel like Shiro was progressing quickly enough.  He could barely match blows with the commander.

Bolide edged away from them, and they sat on the far side of the bench with their toes and fingers curled over the side.  Like a gargoyle.  They wanted to watch.

Shiro rose to his feet and cracked his back.  “I stretched before you got here.  If we’re going to do this, now’s the time.”

“Take your stance, Champion.”  Sendak stepped over the bench and tugged once at his hair.  “Remember to make sure you can move quickly, don’t lock up your spine.  You’ll leave yourself wide open.”

The only taunts that came to mind were either insulting the commander’s age or his paternal instincts, but Shiro knew his words would get twisted.  For once, he kept his mouth shut and readied himself.  It was a while since he last went hand-to-hand with an opponent, at least the early days of his gladiatorial debut.  He didn't feel like smart mouthing unless he could back it up.

“Your arm will activate to defend you, but you’re the one in control of its direction,” Sendak said.  “Cut through, or deflect, you must decide.  Otherwise, your attacker will use it against you.”

The first strike was direct, a left hook, and Shiro saw it coming.  His instinct was to dodge, but he held his ground.  As promised, the quintessence crackled to life.  He opened his palm to catch the blow despite the size of the fist aimed for him.  To his own surprise, he was strong enough to push it aside.   _ And  _ block a sucker punch aimed for his liver with his left, grappling Sendak’s right.

“Good.  Remember not to lean too heavily on its capabilities.”

“It’s a weapon,” Shiro replied.  “And I can’t rely on it unless I’m in danger.  Not exactly what I want to bank on when my back’s against a wall.”

Sendak’s cruel grin and narrowed eye agreed.  “Let’s continue.  We need to find your exhaustion point, then work past it.”

“Understood, sir.”

The blows never came from the same direction or aimed for a single body part twice.  The only constant was the use of their prosthetics.  Yet while Sendak didn’t tire, Shiro felt his right arm getting weaker.  The quintessence wasn’t tapped out, but his body was struggling to keep up.  The arm being left as dead weight in their previous bouts made sense.  He needed to build his strength to come even this far.

An inevitable loss came in the form of a slash across Shiro’s chest.  He was thrown over the bench and into the wall behind it.  He didn’t brace for contact, and the air got knocked clean out of him.  He laid there for a few moments beside the discarded blades.  When got up, both shoulders felt brittle.  Nothing broken, but his pride was bruised.

Bolide was there to help him off the floor.  They tried not to laugh, but their eyes were brighter than usual.  They checked the claw marks.  No broken skin or blood, but it was tender to the touch.  A bruise was a definite possibility.

“You lasted longer than I thought.”  Sendak stayed where he was, standing in the center of the training circle.  “The report will be made to Haggar, and we’ll train again this evening.”

“A part of your status report?”

“If I didn’t claim you when I did, you never would leave her laboratory,” he explained.  “She has no choice but to be satisfied with our agreement.  The whole empire will see what you’re capable of soon enough.”

The whole empire?  That was a daunting thought, although Shiro admitted that he expected it.  Zara referred to their destination as a temple.  If the druids were interested, then Zarkon was as well.  They had his ear, or that was what everyone else believed.

Shiro swore he heard a chorus of angered rumblings in the back of his mind.  He didn't know what they were saying, but the "voices" were familiar.  A growl deeper than any other and rippling through space.  If he was right, Voltron was less than pleased.  It didn't want to be a spectacle.

“When do we reach this planet… or whatever it is?” he asked.  “Telling me ‘soon’ isn’t saying much of anything.”

Sendak’s smirk wasn’t what he hoped to see.  “In less than a week on your precious Earth,” he replied.  “Your time aboard this whorehouse is nearly at its end.  It isn’t allowed within orbit of the planet.

“In fact, you will be the first of another race to set foot there.”

Without another word, the commander walked out from the training room.  It was hard to tell through the fur if he’d broken a sweat, but their sparring match left him just as capable as when he walked in.  The bastard was unaffected.  Able to return to his duties without a second thought.

“But what about you?” he asked Bolide.  “If I’m not going to be on this ship, then are you dismissed?”

They stared at him for a long time.  They opened their mouth to speak, but of course it wasn’t their voice.  Since meeting them, this was only the second time they resorted to a link.

“How good of you to call, Champion.”  Madame Renaud’s greeting was formal, but the amused lilt was still there.  “I assume you finally have a reason to even try?”

“I’m sorry, Madame, but I didn’t know you had personal time.”

After all, the the encounters they had were few and far between after she introduced him to brothel life.  She didn’t explain much of anything.  She poured him a drink and left him to his fate.  Not the kind of person Shiro relied on.

“Fair, fair…  What is it then?  As you said, I’m rather busy with keeping this old ship going.”  Her laugh sounded tired.  “And I understand you don’t have much time either.  A few days, perhaps.”

Either she was in the know, or Bolide briefly explained when they made the connection.  Their blank eyes and thin smile made it impossible to tell.  Shiro tried not to over complicate the question, and he tried harder not to think about what the answer might be.

“Will Bolide come with me?”

“The commander’s payment has gone through, Champion,” Madame Renaud assured him.  “The decision was made some time ago.  Did he really tell you nothing about it?”

Shiro sat dumbfounded, and he thought he saw Bolide’s brows knit together as well.  Even if they didn’t speak the same language, his alien companion was more than capable of telling him what they knew.  A single nod or a wide grin.  Either was enough to convey a simple “yes,” but this news blindsided them.

“Was that all, darling?  I must be going.”

“Yes, ma’am.  Thank you.”  He nodded to himself.  “I won’t bother you anymore than that.”

“Good day to you then,” she said.  “And good luck.”

After the call ended, Bolide blinked a few times in rapid succession.  They wouldn’t look at Shiro, but he stared at them.  Neither one of them seemed to know what to think of Bolide’s situation, let alone say anything about it.  When they finally appeared to calm down, he tried his best.

“When we leave the brothel, you can go wherever you want,” he said.  “You don’t have to stay with me.  Sendak already bought your freedom, as far as I’m concerned.”

They cooed and shook their head.  If anything, the whole idea left them frightened.  A tremble started in their arms, and they wrapped them around their shoulders.  Hiding it as best they could.

Shiro wondered, again, whether they knew much about the world outside of the bordello.  He knew they were part of an alien race called the luminous, but that was all.  Maybe they were dropped off at the Madame’s metaphorical doorstep, or perhaps they were even born here.  There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that children were born and raised here.  That boy from the baths might’ve been one.

“I’m not abandoning you,” he promised.  “If you want to stay with me, you can.  I meant what I said earlier, I’m glad you’re here.”

The two of them would talk about other choices later.  He patted Bolide on their horn rather than disturb their veils, and they chattered to themselves.  When they acknowledged him, they also started to take off the sheer strips of fabric one by one.  These fell to the floor until they reminded Shiro of red autumn leaves.

Bolide stood with their face covered by their hands.  After three deep breaths, they finished preparing themselves.  Their hands fell away, and they look at him with a bare face.

Bronze ink tattooed into their thin skin, in the same art deco pattern which decorated the employee uniforms.  Ones that mirrored the Galra art in the hallways, sharp patterns and lines.  It started at their horns and traced over their eyes, bridge of their nose, and their lips.  Their lips were also pierced, not unlike the snakebites Shiro had before the garrison.  Although theirs were polished metal and dripped with two garnets.

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “I didn’t know…”

Again, they put their hand on his arm and smiled at him.  It wasn’t his fault.  How was he supposed to know when Bolide never showed him before?  As if they blamed him when they chose to hide things and keep secrets.

Shiro rested his head on theirs, and they started to laugh.  If he didn’t know any better, he swore their darkened cheeks meant they were blushing.  They chattered again before kissing the scar on his nose.  Then tapped their own where the tattooed lines intersected.  The two of them matched.


	18. Indoctrination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient for this chapter. I don't have a beta reader, so all of the editing is done by me. Although this is a first draft, I want to make sure it's at least somewhat coherent before I post.
> 
> Also, a special thank you for all the wonderful comments, kudos, and views! I can't send a thank you for every kudos and view, but I am blown away by all the love and support.

“Shouldn’t I be in the training room right now?”

“Shiro, love… I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that stupid question.”  Zara trimmed his tuft and checked its length.  “This party is your send off, a celebration of your ‘coming of age.’”

Unimpressed, he brushed her paws away from him.  She countered with a rough kiss, which wasn’t as forced as before.  His grooming continued, and this time her interest was in his collar.  Her claws traced the line of quintessence from the front to the back.  A few clicks, and the heavy leather and metal dropped from his neck and into his lap.  It left him feeling exposed.

The silver needles were fully visible, but they didn’t spark or even hum.  Zara deactivated the collar without a single thought, and she tsked to see the state of the skin underneath.

“We’ll need to do something about this,” she said.  “It’s so pale compared to the rest of you.  Nothing a little air can’t fix over a few days, but we’ll need to dress it up for tonight.”

“I’m guessing the powder you ladies use is a little too purple?”  What a question.  “I don’t think anyone is going to notice.”

“Oh, believe me, they will notice whatever is out of place.”  She squeezed his arm.  “Wait here, and I’ll get that taken care of.  The others must have something that will do the trick.”

Zara crawled to the edge of the bed and slid down its side until her feet rested on the floor.  As tall as she was, even she wasn’t able to look graceful doing so.  Her black mane was also tied in strips of cloth, just like the girls in the garrison before special events, which didn’t improve her less than elegant appearance.  Shiro was sure all the pieces would come together in the end.

The two were alone, or as alone as they could be with Bolide hidden just out of sight.  The other sisters were in a separate room while they prepared.  From what he understood, his position was rather unique because he was a mate.  Accommodations to traditions were necessary.  One that remained whole and unchanged was the right of the chosen mate to prepare him for the ritual, although she was Sendak’s and not his.

Even the baths needed to be cleared before he was allowed to use them.  Scented oils rubbed into his skin and still more run through his hair, and every knot in his muscles worked out.  Whatever he thought of Zara, she knew what she was about.  His limbs, the organic ones anyway, felt loose and almost fluid.  The annoying kink in his neck was gone as well.

Shiro heard her come back before he saw her.

“Here we are, just perfect.”

“What did you find?”

“We have time for it later, Shiro, plenty of time,” she said.  “Sit up straight for me.  We’ll paint your claws first, and then we can start on your back while they dry.”

Zara frowned when he showed her his left hand.  She held it to the yellow light and squinted at his fingernails.  From one of the small packs sitting on the bed with them, she dug for a set of false claws and a small collection of polish.  Three different black bottles, four reds, two pinks, and two purples, but there was also a bottle of white.

“Would you like that one?” she asked.  “It’s not a color the Galra often wear, but I think it would suit you.”

“Heh, maybe more than you know.”  He never did tell them his full name.  “As long as I’m not going to be too gauche.  Wouldn’t want to offend any politicians.”

“Your mouth is going to offend them the most, I’m afraid.”

Deft paws were essential in applying fake claws it seemed.  Zara called at least two of them a ‘quiznak’ before she was satisfied with their placement.  Then she started the process of cutting and shaping them to fit his fingers.  She laughed quietly once she caught him staring.

“A lot of work, and you’re going to break them off before we land on the planet.”

“I don’t know.  Break off one of these inside a person, and it’d be a pain in the ass to dig them out.”  Shiro smirked.  “No one would ever suspect.”

That got an honest laugh out of her, and she almost budged the claw she was setting.  “Yes, I think you might be right about that.”

Zara motioned for him to lie flat, his hand rested on a pillow.  From inside a black metal box, she pulled another pot and brush, and the top was glowing pink with a rune.  What didn’t the Galra use quintessence for?

“Normally, this would coat the fur and wash out, but this is going on your bare skin.”

“Is it going to burn, or just stain?”

“You’ve had more than enough to be accustomed to it now,” she assured him.  “The worst it will do is stain, and who knows.  Maybe it will suit you too?”

“Maybe.”  To whatever gods were out there, he hoped not.  “Don’t warn me before you start.  It’ll just make me tense up.”

Yet the brushstrokes were smooth.  Zara didn’t pick up the brush until she finished a continuous line that followed his spine.  Then she would dip her brush and start over from the top, line after line.  From Shiro’s neck down to the start of his tailbone.  While she performed the ritual, she also sang.  Her voice was sweet, and the melody was slow.  The words were either too old or too foreign for him to understand, but he swore they made the quintessence hum.  A sense that shivered throughout his body, not just across his back.

Both the painting and the song ended, and Shiro wasn’t able to move.  He didn’t feel trapped, but the paralyzation wasn’t explained beforehand.  He could glare at Zara perfectly well, though.  She grinned while she lied on the bed beside him.  Her paw rested on his cheek.

“Don’t be upset,” she said.  “If I told you about this part, you wouldn’t stay still.  Anyway, Sendak will be here soon to whisk you off to your party.  After we get you dressed, of course.”

Shiro tried to speak, but his voice stayed locked in his throat.  The humming grew louder, and although his feet weren’t on the floor, he recognized its signature.  He wasn’t able to tap into it all the time.  When he did, the energy couldn’t belong to anyone else.  The wait wasn’t long.

Sendak had arrived.

“Do you have his things ready?”

“Are you saying that you doubt me?” Zara replied.

“Not at all.”

She stepped down and disappeared behind a panel just out of Shiro’s sight.  There was the audible rustle of fabric, and she emerged with a swath of black cloth in her paws.  It sparkled with the same beads that decorated her favorite gown and matching crown.  Then it was out of sight again.

“Lift him up,” Zara said.  “I knew I wasn’t going to be able to do it myself.”

“You lifted me when it was my turn.”

“Yes, but I lived through more when I became your chosen.”  There was a smile in her voice.  “You can be nostalgic another time.”

Shiro was picked off the bed by the back of his neck.  Sendak’s paw held him aloft, and Zara worked around his heavy limbs.  She wasn’t as quick as Bolide, even with only a single garment to dress him in.  A skirt or a sarong pinned at his side, but it was different from the form-fitting clothing that he wore most days.  She also slipped his feet into heavy sandals that weighed him down.

Sendak brought him close and shifted Shiro, so that he was cradled in the commander’s arms.  Despite the armor against his stock-still body, the moment was almost tender.  Sendak wouldn’t look at him, but Shiro wasn’t sure how he would react if he did.

“One last thing.”

Standing on her toes, Zara slipped a lace choker around his neck and clasped it shut.  It was snug like the collar, but his heart didn’t race when he felt the lace against his skin.  The accessory was an improvement after so much leather and metal.

“Perfect.”  She kissed both his cheek and Sendak’s before hurrying to her closet.  “We will join you soon.  Remember, no one else can see you.  Otherwise, we’ll have to start all over tomorrow.”

“It hasn’t been that many years since my ceremony.”

Judging by his chosen mate’s laughter, yes it had.

They left the room without any further ceremony, but Shiro felt the stiffness start to sink into his bones.  It felt like little pins were forced into the marrow.  If he was able to, he would’ve seethed in pain.  His eyes closed, but that was all he could do.  Even his prosthetic was useless although he felt the energy coursing through it.

Shiro fought against the quintessence’s influence.  He felt it growing stronger, but he told himself it was his imagination.  That the fear from the medical unit was too fresh.  It didn’t stop the tide.  Half-seen, half-felt visions coming back to him, and the only thing grounding him was Sendak’s armor and the arm that held him.

His hallucinations came on quicker than before.  The lions were staring him down, looking through him, and the ‘voice’ of Voltron seeped into his soul.  They were close, so painfully close, to where the Red Lion laid in wait.  Whether it waited for him or another, it was hard to tell.  The roar was furious if not deafening.

Sendak’s voice was there, but it sounded farther away, unintelligible but still heard.  He placed Shiro down, and the world tried to spin back into focus.  The room was just as strange.

The lights were dimmed to almost nonexistence, and the air was thick with smoke.  Nothing like the cigar, the smoke was spiced and musky.  Shiro squinted to see through it.  He didn’t realize that large throne he was set in was surrounded by sheer curtains, but he did see the figures on the other side.  Their yellow eyes watched him like wild animals hungry for a feast.

Haggar was the only one who approached him, and she held a black chalice.  The contents weren’t visible over the edge.  The way it glowed, he didn’t need to see it.  He recognized this quintessence.  It was the same golden color from the pillars in his shared quarters and in the eyes of every Galra he met.

Reciting an incantation, Haggar took careful steps towards him.  She laid her paw on the top of his head, and she tilted his head back.  Pressed the cup to his lips.

“We welcome you,” she said.  “The Champion becomes a Galra on this day, for now and ever forward.  A human known as Shiro, transformed into one worthy of Emperor Zarkon.

“Drink and be fulfilled, my child.”

As if he had any choice but to drink.  The quintessence hissed and bubbled, poured down his throat with no resistance.  It was bitter and sour all at once, and the moment it dropped below his neck, Shiro’s body was free from paralysis.

He lashed out at Haggar first since she was the closest one to him.  She dodged his new claws with no effort.  His eyes started to focus, and he saw her manic grin, her fangs wicked and gleaming.  Her robes billowed around her, and she was gone.  Her yellow eyes were the last to disappear, a sign that she would always watch over him.

It was Sendak who wrestled his arms behind him and held Shiro in place.  The grip wasn’t tight, but the claws were a firm warning.  As the adrenaline rush started to wane, the hold on him loosened as well.  Until he stood on his own with a heaving chest.

“A simple enough ritual.”  Sendak gripped his shoulders and turned him to face everyone else.  “You stand as one of us.  Not prey but an equal, made in the glory and blood of the emperor.”

The room was full of officers but none of their mates.  The only exceptions were the sister wives who stood in a row behind Sendak, but no one else spoke a word.  They wore plain black gowns, while the officers and commanders remained in full armor.  Those in attendance saluted him as if he was a comrade in arms.  Given what Haggard’s incantation, he assumed that he must be.

Zara glided around to her mate’s side and smiled pleasantly down at what she held.  In her paws was a beautiful black mirror which was polished to perfection.  The light of Sendak’s red eye caught in it first, and then she turned the mirror..

What Shiro saw stole whatever breath was left in him.  The reflection was his, but where he once had white and black eyes, there was something… other.  Alien and disturbing.

His eyes glowed yellow, unlike a human’s but just like a Galra.

“In the glory and the blood,” the audience said.  “A son of Emperor Zarkon.”

Soon enough the doors opened wide, and the rest of the party entered without formal ceremony.  They brought wine and liquor with them, open and eager to be served.  No staff followed the Galra into the banquet hall, so they poured and passed their own drinks around the room, accompanied by traditional songs.  A revolving door of faces congratulated Shiro.  Some even shook his hand despite his obvious shock.

“Marvelous to have you with us, Champion,” one said.

“We knew that you had the chops for it,” another insisted.

“The yellow suits you, dear.”

Out of everyone, Shiro only recognized five faces from the previous party.  Commander Prorok and his chosen mate, Naja and Kekar, and last but not least Thace.  The officer waited until the rest of the attendees gave their personal congratulations before he approached.  He was calmer than the rest, but his ears betrayed his uncertainty.  He bowed his head with respect.

“What you have done, not many others would be willing,” Thace said.  “It will be an honor to work alongside you.  I’m sure you will accomplish great things.”

The praise sounded so sincere that it managed to untangle Shiro’s tongue.  “Thank you.  I have a lot to learn, but I’m ready for the challenge.”

Satisfied with the reply, Thace bowed his head and left without another word.  Although he did glance up at the commander before blending into the rest of the crowd.

Sendak leaned down to draw Shiro’s attention back to him.  His tone was unreadable, but the words tried to be comforting.  “I’ll take you back to your seat of honor.  You won’t be left on your own just yet, when everyone knows your legs are useless.”

Shiro nodded and willingly clung to the massive arm.  His feet held his weight, but his legs felt like jelly and ready to give at any second.  He didn’t even protest being set on Sendak’s lap, or the way his right paw snaked around his waist and drew him close.  If anything, it made the whole situation feel normal in comparison to all the other sensations going through his body.

Across his skin, an electric energy danced, and his heart beat faster than ever.  The visions were gone, but Shiro heard the hum build to a loud buzz.  He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.  Well, aside from the glow that they left in the corners of his sight.

“How is this different from the drinks you gave me?”

“You mean the quintessence?  This is the true form that the Galra drink to live,” Sendak explained.  “It is a ritual we take part in throughout our lives, starting when we come of age.  Like tonight.”

“How often?”

“In the beginning, it’s once every other day, and then it becomes every week.”  He kissed Shiro’s neck.  “Eventually, it’s every month.  Some are powerful enough that they only need to consume the quintessence once a year.”

Was it those powerful enough, or those indoctrinated far enough into proper society?  Just because Shiro’s body didn’t outright reject the draught he was given, that didn’t mean it was good for him.  All that meant was he built up enough of a tolerance to avoid either making himself sick or killing him outright.  There were reasons they didn’t warn him ahead of time, and they had nothing to do with tradition.

“I trust you.”  He lied.  “You went through this before, after all.”

“More than you know,” Sendak agreed.  “You and I are among the few who have taken this trial.  Tomorrow is our last day to prepare you for it.”

Shiro allowed the kisses to pass over the brushstrokes down his back and across his shoulders.  Every time those lips made contact with them, the energy pulsed through him again.  The sensation was hypnotic, and it left him feeling warm.  The banquet was far in the background, leaving him alone with Sendak.  Even in plain sight.

“The last colosseum, my Champion,” Sendak promised.  “Then you will fight only for your own glory and blood, not even that of the emperor.”


	19. The Perfect Escape

They left Madame Renaud’s bordello at the end of the next day cycle.  The ship wasn’t allowed within orbit of the sacred planet, much less welcomed to land.  Its residents were too other, and its purpose was too carnal.  An exception was made for Bolide since they belonged to the Champion on record.  Shiro himself was considered more Galra than human, as the ritual held more weight than genetics.

He watched from an upper walkway while the transfer process carried out.

Unlike the lockdown, this time there weren’t even androids guarding the thoroughfares between the brothel and the battleship. There wouldn’t be a second chance to escape.  Shiro knew the layout of the bordello, and he took stock of where the travel pods docked.  They wouldn’t hold up for an extended trip, but he needed to go only as far as the nearest sympathetic planet.  This close to a Galra pilgrimage site, though, he wasn’t sure if he stood a chance.

Shiro had plenty of time to think over the possibility.  Although security was lax, hundreds of Galra needed to be moved from one ship to the other.  Since it was in service to the empire and its people, the whorehouse assigned its own soldiers.  Their officers transferred first, and their troops came second.  Rows upon rows of armored grunts flowed through the waypoints.  They continued to keep perfect step.

The sister wives and the other socialites were in their respective quarters.  Judging by the size of their wardrobe alone, he figured it was the end to an extended stay.  Just as well that the military shuffled their deck before everyone else.  It would take hours to move the privileged few to their cabins..

Any of Shiro’s personal belongings were long since lost to the vacuum of space after the Kerberos Mission.  To be honest, he didn’t remember what he brought for the trip.  Mementos from childhood or his pre-garrison days maybe, but nothing that he would feel devastated about losing.  Granted, when he packed for that mission, he didn’t expect to be abducted.

The thought snapped him back to reality.  Why was he wasting time?  Regardless of the ceremony, he wasn’t a Galra.  They placed the perfect opportunity to escape right at his feet, and Shiro stood there leaning over a railing rather than disappear.

When it occurred to him to make good on his original plans, Shiro showed some restraint.  He didn’t run.  If he tried to, that would draw immediate suspicion.  Even with everything going on below, at least one person would see him.  His capture at that point would be guaranteed.  With any luck, Bolide followed him through the ceiling.

If this was an act, then it went on for too long.  If it wasn’t, well, Shiro had some explaining to do.  Was he that tempted?  Did life with the Galra seem that much better than life on Earth?

No, that wasn’t the reason.  Not at all.  Escape was always the priority, and everything else was in the interest of trust.  Earn Commander Sendak’s trust, and the situation would play out nice and smooth.  Right?  Right.

As soon as he was out of sight, Shiro picked up his pace.  His feet were quieter than boots, but even the shortest route to the pod bay brought him clear across the bordello.  Shiro avoided the residential suites altogether, choosing the brothel rentals instead.  If anyone was suspicious here, they had a ways to go before finding the Galra.  He saw no one.

But he felt them follow him.

They didn’t sound the same as Bolide when they scampered through the hidden passages above and below.  In fact, what worried Shiro most was the fact he didn’t hear Bolide at all.  Did they fall behind, or were they already aboard the Galra battleship, waiting for him?

If anyone was going to escape with him, they would be that one.  He still had questions, and he wanted to answer theirs as well.  As golden as the opportunity was, he wouldn’t leave without them.  A last minute decision.  One he knew better than to make, but he swore to stick to it.  Told himself it would be suicide to go into the wilds of space alone.

When he rounded the last bend, the false druid was waiting.

The pod bay was small with only a dozen or so available shuttles.  They were smooth and appeared like human-sized capsule pills rather than a means of travel.  Not surprising since they were only meant to transport clients between their own vessels and the Madame Renaud’s.  The lights which lined the dock were a blinding white.

They washed out the color of the druid’s robe.  Their mask almost appeared to burn from within, but the eyes started out at him.  The chill from its smile was magnified here.

The red pod was open beside them, their hand rested on the glass, in anticipation of Shiro’s arrival.  There was enough room for him and a single passenger, but Bolide was nowhere to be seen.  It was only him and the druid.  The controls were activated, and he read the coordinates.  The stranger set them for Earth.

“You are long overdue, Shiro,” they said.  “This is your final chance, I hope you understand that.”

“I would understand a hell of a lot more if I knew who was talking.”  Shiro fought the urge to ball his hands up into fists.  This wasn’t a fight that he could win with brute strength, and his new arm worked better as a sword than a bludgeon.  “And what you want from me.”

“I want to take you home.”  They sounded exasperated.  “That is all I ever wanted,  _ to take you home. _  You don’t belong out here anymore than I do.”

“You mean Earth, don’t you.”

In the silence, there was the tiniest of hope spots.  The voice wasn’t familiar enough, and the height of the druid was all wrong.  In those robes, though, any number of secrets were possible.  The mask added to the questions swirling around inside of Shiro’s head.  It wasn’t his wisest decision, but he reached out for the mask.  The druid didn’t stop him.

But the ricocheted laser fire sure did.

“A fair list of questions, Champion.”  Sendak stood right behind him with his claws threatening to dig into his shoulder.  “I have plenty of questions of my own, but I don’t think we have time.  Show yourself.”

The druid stayed silent as if they thought the commander would doubt his own judgement.  It was a clear mistake on their part.  Sendak fired again, but this was a real attempt.  The laser went between the cut-out eyes.  The bronze mask melted through, and the top of the hood tore.  If they flinched, Shiro never saw it.

They stepped back, toward the pod, and vanished in thin air.  The pod stayed where it was, and the hologram of the Earth spun.  The homesickness set in more than ever.  The Blue Marble, Shiro thought, but it looked so small compared to other planets he saw since first breaking orbit.

“One day, you will return,” Sendak assured him.  “Today is not that day.”

“And you’re not going to punish me?” Shiro asked.  “You knew I was running, you knew I was going to escape.”

“I knew that this would be the time to try.”  His claws dug in just a bit deeper, but it wasn’t enough to break skin.  “If you were any closer, I would’ve torn you to pieces.  You had time.”  Even without seeing it, he wore a sneer.  “You made your choice before I arrived..”

Shiro bit his tongue.  If he claimed it was Bolide that made him stay, then they would be used against him.  Yes, Sendak was aware of how important they were to him, but he didn’t want to enforce the notion.  Let the Galra think whatever they wanted.

“You should be worried about saving face.”  Shiro scoffed.  “This isn’t exactly bedroom talk.”

The sound Sendak made was between a grunt and a chuckle.  He used his weapon to guide his mate away from the pods.  The laser rifle looked like a child’s toy in his paw, and Shiro realized just how much power was behind the commander’s genuine muscle.  Even without his quintessence laced weapon and shield of an arm, he was a force to be reckoned with.  Firing a rifle single-handed.  Just how much of a handicap did he give himself when they sparred?

“It’s time to leave. I doubt your ‘friend’ will appear again, not in this place anyway.”

“They don’t sound anything like my friend,” Shiro argued.  “Whatever it was that they wanted, it had to be a trap.  Or a trick of some kind.”

“Are you certain?”

As if on cue, a headache started building as they walked.  Why was it that every time Shiro tried to focus on the fake, his skull felt like a knife was buried in it?  Was it stress, or was it more sinister?  They already perfected teleportation, so maybe they had other druid-like abilities.

“I’m not sure about anything at this point.”  Not even himself.

The only person the druid could be, out of anyone that he actually knew, was one of the Holts.  If it was, why deceive him?  All that he needed was a glimpse of either Dr. Samuel or Matt’s face, and any doubts would be gone.  His second guessing about what to do, stopped.  But the knot in his stomach and the throbbing at his temples told Shiro that he was right.

One, or both, of the Holts threw him to the wolves as soon as he arrived from the arena.

“Then are you going to keep running?” Sendak asked.  They stopped only halfway to where his battleship remained docked, waiting for its commander.  “After all I’ve done to get you this far, are you going to throw it away?  Just to meet your end.”

“No.  This is where it ends,” Shiro replied.  “As long as you swear to me, that I’ll be able to return to Earth.”

Although it was difficult to meet Sendak’s gaze with his new eyes, he found the will to do so.  It was necessary for the pact between them.  If he wasn’t human anymore, then this was Galra to Galra.  And unless they were prey, they didn’t break eye contact.

“I know it isn’t going to be now, maybe not even a few years from now, but I want to go back at least once.”  With any luck, before he died.  “Can you promise me that?”

“As your mate, I promise you that you will see Earth again.”

The headache was still there, but it didn’t come with a scream of betrayal from the universe.  No curses hurled his way by a false druid.  Aside from his eyes and his arm, both of which he was already accustomed to, Shiro didn’t feel like anything was taken from him.  Nothing that he didn’t give up on Earth before breaking its orbit and hurdling towards Pluto at the farthest ends of their solar system.  That was his past.  This was his present, and this was his reality.

“If we’re going to be equals, I expect you to keep that promise,” Shiro said.  “Before then, I have a lion to meet.”


	20. Meeting the Greater Evil

Shiro wasn’t introduced to the battleship as much as he would like.  The urgency in landing wasn’t because of his poor escape attempt, but the transfer took away precious hours.  As it was, they were the second to last ship to land on the planet’s surface.  Sendak allowed him to stay on the bridge, to see the planet and watch the landing, yet the crew said nothing to him.  He didn’t see them look his way either.  Just as well.

Dressed in the only armor available to him, he felt out of place.  The standard issue uniform was better suited to a taller and lithe bodied Galra recruit, and the open lower torso was also a concern.  Even with an undersuit, Shiro felt exposed. His guts a target for any alien with half an idea of human anatomy.

The planet itself was beautiful, though.  There were no moons caught in its orbit, and its sun was an ominous red.  Carnelian didn’t look like Earth, but he could pick out vast purple oceans and a small cluster of red continents.  As they broke through the atmosphere, Shiro realized that the land masses were in fact white and not red at all.  The oceans, too, were closer to a dark blue than purple   It was the light of the sun that stained the surface like fresh blood.

Before Shiro could ask questions, he noticed the head technician and navigator bowing their heads in respect.  Their eyes closed, and their lips mouthed silent words of prayer.  The commander kept his eyes straight ahead.  His arms crossed over his chestplate.

Although Sendak didn’t say a word, he looked at peace.  Almost nostalgic, the way a small but honest smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Once the clouds parted, and they slowed their descent, orders were given.  They had the exact coordinates for their landing.  Other Galra battleships and smaller warships dotted the continent below them, and there was little room for error.  Zara said the planet was a pilgrimage site, but she talked as if that was all in the past.  Some reverence, Shiro expected.  Not the thousands if not millions of Galra swarming the planet’s surface.

The crew landed the battleship with utmost precision.  They were a part of a giant ring, and Shiro almost couldn’t see the other ships opposite them.  Like islands dotting the horizon.  The sand kicked into the air and swirled, and everyone on board the bridge looked up.  They saluted in unison, with him following suit after Sendak glared back at him.

Any embarrassment disappeared the moment Shiro saw the underside of the emperor’s massive carrier.  Rather, when the shadow of its descent appeared above them.

On the ground below, the sands created a whirlwind and cleared themselves away.  When Shiro squinted, he made out an image carved into the rock.  It wasn’t the face of Zarkon which he grew accustomed to over time.  It was Voltron, within the mouth of a lion.

The black and pink carrier landed over the image, and it disappeared into shadow.  In contrast, Sendak’s battleship appeared to be a mere toy.  Everyone remained still, standing at attention and awaiting the appearance of their emperor.  After a dramatic enough pause, Zarkon’s face appeared across their windshield.  Reptilian and ancient, his cracked lips and glowing pink eyes betrayed nothing.  The white scar over his left eye cut through his pale, purple skin.

“Children of the Empire.  I welcome you to our sacred land, a planet so timeless that even I do not remember its true name.”  Yet another pause while he considered his words.  “A planet which has called to one of our own.  A child to most of you, but a child who shows greater promise than ever thought possible.”

Shiro knew that every person on the bridge thought of him even if they didn’t dare look away from the screen.  How many of the other Galra that landed here knew about him?  Were they disgusted, or did they rejoice?  Maybe they didn’t think it was more than a curious situation.

“I am eager… to meet you, Champion,” Zarkon said.  “I trust you will not disappoint me.”

His blood ran cold as Shiro stared into those eyes.  He felt watched and dissected.  The emperor picked him apart through the transmission.  Left speechless, he swallowed his fear, and he held the salute while his heart threatened to stop altogether.  When the image disappeared, he felt less lightheaded.  He remembered to breathe by some miracle.

“Have you never seen his face?”  Sendak did not turn to look at him, but he could see him through the reflection on the windshield.

“Not through a direct transmission, sir,” Shiro admitted.  “It was rare to hear his voice, let alone see his face, in the cells.  I meant no disrespect.”

“I did not say that you were anything but respectful.”  The wry smile was visible.  “Haxus, no one else is to leave for the surface until the emperor gives his blessings.  Be sure that our soldiers remain at their posts and all residents remain in their rooms.”

“Understood, sir.”

As Sendak passed him, Shiro turned to walked at his side.  Despite their height difference, it was easier to match the commander’s pace than before.  They made their way to the base level, but they never intended to keep the silence, their metallic footfalls aside.

“Only one day, and you are already shaping to be a better soldier than before.  I’m quite impressed, Shiro.”

“If I’m going to understand all this, it’s easier to mimic the rank and file.”  His smile was small but genuine.  “Don’t expect me to turn into an officer overnight.  It’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?” Sendak asked.  “They’re a part of the same journey, and the only difference is how far you’re willing to go.  Not how fast.”

“For the Galra’s sake, I hope we have better metaphors than that.”

Although Shiro said it without hesitation, the “we” part of the sentence was unnatural to hear.  It almost sounded like it wasn’t his voice.  It was.

He included himself as a part of the culture as a tactical choice, and he wondered how long it would take for him to believe it.  Months, years?  If today went according to whatever plan Zarkon and Haggar’s plans were, he had plenty of time to find out.  His curiosity got the better of him.  Even if wanted to change his mind, would satisfaction bring him right back?

“For both our sakes, let’s hope you’re not as critical of the emperor as you are of me.”  Rolling the eyes wasn’t easily done among the Galra, but Sendak attempted it.  “Besides, Galra metaphors work better in poetry and songs than in conversation.”

Shiro visibly shuddered.  Their music wasn’t unpleasant, but at the same time, it was disjointed to human ears.  “Please tell me I won’t have to learn how to sing.”

“Zara makes those decisions, so you’ll need to discuss it with her.”  There was a pause.  “I think we’re getting off track...”

Sendak stopped him with his left arm.  Ears pinned forward and eyes watching the empty hallway, but no one appeared.  Shiro half expected the false druid to show themselves.  They didn’t, but it felt like they could show at any moment.

“My apologies.  It appears we are alone yet.”

“Who were you expecting?”

“Carnelian is swarming with Haggar’s druids as we speak,” Sendak explained.  “They are hunting in their own way, and I would rather not cross paths with them.  Not on their own turf.”

His opinion of them never seemed to stay the same.  The commander wasn’t open with hostility towards the druid order, but his respect was lined with caution. Not fear, just an understanding that he was a mortal who faced a power greater than himself.  It was rare to see him humbled.

They reached the lowest deck with no trouble, and the soldiers stationed there saluted them both on arrival.  Although they kept the order not to leave, they were still prepared to reach the surface.  They forwent the common visor and instead wore full helmets.  The atmosphere was thin, and the sand whipped through on the back of the wind.  Shiro could see it through the glass bottom of the hatch at their feet.

“Your helmet, Champion.”  Sendak held it out for him to take.  “Do not stray from my side.  We will be walking to the coliseum, and you don’t know the way.”

“Understood, sir.”  He put the helmet over his head, and in seconds, his face was covered with a purple visor.  His eyes, despite their yellow glow, didn’t reflect back at him.  “I’m ready to go when you are.”

“Then we won’t waste any of the emperor’s precious time.”  The commander spoke to the nearest soldier.  “Open the hatch and close it once we touch down.  Then await further instruction.”

The planet’s heat washed over them the moment the seal broke.  Sand followed, and helmet or not, Shiro felt the grit in his teeth.  The ramp dropped down, and once it made contact with the ground below, they trudged onto the surface.  The winds howled past, and their slow march towards the sacred grounds began.

Although it was possible to reach Sendak through the com, Shiro stayed silent for much of the journey.  He was too in awe to think of anything to say.  The last planet he set foot on as an explorer was Pluto.  That was an unforgettable adventure, but it wasn’t for the same reasons.  For the time being, any second thoughts he had about his failed escape were forgotten.

He immediately understood the Galra’s respect for Carnelian and her landscape.  Bleach white rock formations appeared and vanished in the storm, as if mystical beasts hidden in the sand.  The sun beat down on Shiro, and the ground shifted under his footsteps.

Sendak struggled as well, maybe moreso because of his sheer size.  He was too tall to duck under the wind, and it pushed against his broad shoulders.  His face was too difficult to make out.  Yet the quintessence connecting his shoulder to his arm was brighter than ever while it cracked and popped.

Shiro’s arm stayed dormant, but it wasn’t as exposed to the elements.

“Can you see it?” Sendak asked.  He pointed straight ahead of them with a large claw.  “There, right at the horizon.”

Squinting through the haze, two columns of yellow quintessence wavered in the distance.  Shiro expected the structure behind them to look ancient, but the closer they came to it, he realized that its sides were the same black metal as the Galra ships.  If time did touch the coliseum, it left few marks.  No crumbling pillars or weathered statues, just piles of white sand built up against the walls.  A large door, towering above even Sendak, welcomed them both.

“The temple is further in,” Sendak said.  “First, you will prove yourself worthy of entry, and second, you will drink from the fountain at its door.  Only then will the Red Lion allow you to approach and ask to share its power.”

“How do you know so much about it?”  With the worst of the wind and sand behind them, Shiro looked up to try and read the commander’s face.  “Did you come here in the past?”

“Once, before I started my military career or even came of age, I came to Carnelian.  I survived the trial, I drank from the fountain…”

Sendak didn’t share the rest of the story, but the last piece was easy enough to put into place.  He had an audience with the Red Lion, and she refused him as a pilot.  The way he talked, he wasn’t ashamed.  It sounded like disappointment.  Not an emotion that Shiro thought possible in a seasoned Galra commander.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think Zara would accept you as her chosen mate if anyone thought you were a failure,” he said.  “Or Emperor Zarkon would give you the rank of commander.”

That made Sendak laugh and give his right shoulder a good shove.  “On with you.  Haggar will be waiting with the emperor, and the trial begins sooner than you think.”

After they stepped closer to the gate, the doors swung open on their own.  Inside the first dome, the winds were shut out, and the ground was firm.  White tiles of polished stone lead them towards the arena, and on either side of the path stood rows upon rows of lions sculpted from red stone.  Their eyes glowed with the amber energy that flowed through every Galra.

Shiro felt them watch him as he passed.

The walls of the coliseum reminded him of the ancient ruin of Rome.  Every floor had five lion statues, one for every color of Voltron, and they looked down into the center of the arena.  The arena itself was blanketed in more sand, but it was spread smooth.  Only their footsteps marred the otherwise perfect white surface.

At the feet of a black lion was an immense throne, and upon it sat none other than Zarkon himself.  At his right side, Haggar stood hunched but watching.

While Sendak and Shiro knelt, Shiro chose to keep his eyes on the emperor.  The ancient Galra was dressed in his wine red armor, cape draped over the side of his throne, but his expression was unreadable from so far away.  He sat with his elbows resting on either arm of the throne, fingers laced in front of him.  A classic portrait of an evil bent on conquering the whole universe in his name.

He motioned for them to stand and come forward, and Haggar leaned in to whisper in his ear.  Her eyes were on Shiro the entire time.

Although the howling winds were outside, Zarkon’s voice carried through the structure.  He sounded as if he was seated on a stage rather than in the stands.

“At long last, we see one another face to face.”  He laced his fingers again and reclined further back in his throne.  “Haggar told me much about you, Champion, yet even I did not think you would draw the attention of Voltron.”

Shiro swore he saw the old lizard’s eyes narrow.

“What  _ is _ Voltron?”

He didn’t see it, but he felt Sendak scowl at him.  That was fine.  This wasn’t about the commander, and if anything, Zarkon was amused.  There wasn’t a laugh, but those thin, cracked lips smirked down at him.  All while he weighed an answer to give.

“Voltron is the one being that can conquer the universe like none other,” he explained.  “It was impossible for a single nation to forge its body, let alone give Voltron its power.  The ancient aliens who created it drew on energies across the universe to breathe life into the individual lions.  When that energy came together, so too did the lions.  That was how Voltron came to be.

“As for how it fulfills its purpose, that is for the Black Paladin to decide.”

Shiro’s right hand balled into a fist, but he relaxed it just as quick.  “Then  _ you _ are the one who decides Voltron’s fate.”

His stomach turned at the thought.  The reason Voltron was able to conquer the universe, was because Zarkon was at its head.  Even without its power, the Galra Empire was unmatched in its influence.  Both the gladiator and mate’s life already taught Shiro that.

“I am,” Zarkon agreed.  “Which is why it is unfortunate that the Black Lion will not reappear until the other four reunite.”

Everyone here hoped that  _ he _ would be the one to get them that much closer to their ultimate goal.  Find a Paladin for one lion, and the others would call out to their sister.  They waited to be woken up, brought together for a new purpose, and the Galra would twist that desire to meet their own ends.  The growl in the back of his mind was louder than ever.

“Then how do we begin the trials?”  Shiro let his impatience bleed into his voice.  “Because I don’t know about any of you, but I don’t have time to waste.  If I’m really meant to be the Red Paladin, then I’m ready to pay whatever price there is.”

Zarkon waved off Haggar as she tried to speak.  No doubt she wanted to scold him for speaking in such a candid way to their emperor, but she deferred to his judgement.

“So you have not lost your spirit, or your bite?  Good.”

The ground shifted under them, and the sand fell away from an opening trapdoor.  Although Sendak pulled him from the edge, Shiro saw the cage bars.  Likewise, he heard a creature shifting its weight as it woke up from its slumber.  Claws scraped against the walls, and scales slid across the floor.  After his duel against the Asteroid Wraith, he made a silent prayer that his other arm would survive this one.

Unlike that arena, this place was wide open.  No rock formations or alternate terrain to use to his advantage, and Shiro still didn’t know the size of the creature he was going up against.  They sounded large, but  _ how _ large remained to be seen.  As if it meant to reassure him, the quintessence in his arm activated just enough to be felt.  The tingle went up through his fingers all the way to where it connected with his organic parts.

He came this far without it, but he was better equipped than ever before.  He had armor and a reliable weapon.  Sendak taught him the basics.  If his head stayed clear, and he trusted his instincts, he would survive.  The Champion never lost a fight, no matter how high the odds were stacked against him.  He was enough to become a Galra.

Shiro was more than enough to become a Paladin as well.


	21. Champion of the Galra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Specific Warnings for This Chapter:
> 
> Animal Cruelty  
> Animal Death  
> Blood and Gore  
> Blood Sports  
> Minor Injury
> 
> I feel terrible for leaving you guys for so long and without anything to sink your teeth into while I was gone. Life is getting back on the rails, though, and we're well into my favorite month of the year. With any luck, that means we can get back to regular updates, and there won't be anymore unexpected hiatuses.
> 
> Let's get on with the battle!

Above him, Shiro heard the Galra arrive en masse.  Their heavy boots thundered overhead, and it droned on until they became one continuous storm.  This coliseum was larger than any of the others he fought in.  He didn’t want to let himself get overwhelmed by his audience, with or without Zarkon in it, so he was grateful for once to be with Haggar underneath the stands.  The halls closing in around them.

“You will leave everything as it is, Champion,” she said.  “If it were my choice, you would start the trial as soon as you arrived.  Yet Emperor Zarkon insisted that the people see their Champion in the arena one last time.”

She still referred to him by his title, but Shiro was more insulted when she talked to him like he was a child.  As if his sticky little hands would leave fingerprints all over the nice black metal and red stonework.  He was half tempted to do it just to spite her.

Even Shiro admitted, though, that the chapel was too beautiful to mar with his immaturity.  The narrow hallway opened into a small room which welcomed those unworthy of the temple but seeking guidance.  The black walls loomed around them, and pews carved out of red stone sat unattended.  No idols or an altar either, just five rows of said pews on either side.  He sat in one, and Haggar decided to leave him be for once.

“That arm is not the strongest I have ever made, but it was made for you and you alone.”  She turned her back on him.  “I suggest you use it to the best of your ability.  Because it is the only weapon you will have to protect you.”

Although she didn’t see it, he nodded.  “Thank you.  I won’t waste it.”

Rather than walk out the way they came, Haggar left his side in an instant.  No doubt she ran back to Zarkon’s side, lest the masses see him without his ever present shadow.  She was powerful in her own right, but her visibility was just as important.  She knew her politics.

Shiro was learning as well, perhaps even faster than anyone outside of Sendak’s inner circle might guess.  As important as this battle was, and while his life hung in the balance, the ultimate goal was to draw Zarkon’s attention.  His favor in and of itself meant power and influence.

That was the whole point in Sendak sharing his own story.  The nostalgia showed in his tone, but the commander never said anything without purpose.  He started much in the same way that Shiro did.  He wasn’t recognized by the Galra as a soldier when he started his trial, and he hadn’t come of age.  Wasn’t a true part of his people.  Sendak failed to become the Red Paladin, but Zarkon saw him and his potential.

Despite the lack of an altar, Shiro wondered if there was a way to reach the god of this place before the fight.  Maybe it was just about sacrificing his blood out there.

Then he noticed the silence. The storm of Galra was over, and the only sound was in the back of his own mind.  One that never really left him after his arm was attached.  Rather than wait to be brought to the arena, he chose to stand and walk towards the gate at the end of the chapel’s hall.  If this was his moment, then Shiro would grab it by both horns.

Two guards waited for him at the gate.  They fought to keep their stoic appearances, punctuated by a salute, but the corners of their mouths were still drawn up in a smile.  One of them finally broke and said, “We haven’t missed a match yet.  Best of luck, Champion.”

Just as unprofessional, Shiro was unable to stop himself from chuckling at their enthusiasm.  “Put me down for one last win then.”

As much as he wanted to see their reaction, the gate opened too soon.  He squared his shoulders and walked forward into the raw daylight.  For the first time since his capture, he entered a coliseum without a cage or a collar.  He wasn’t dressed in rags but a soldier’s uniform, and the crowd was in awe rather than bloodlust.  No announcer was necessary, because they knew exactly who they came to see.

The Champion, a human turned Galra, who never lost a single fight.

From his throne, Zarkon motioned for the beast to be brought into the arena.  Shiro activated his arm before the hatch was even fully open.  If the sounds it made earlier were a sign, then this creature was pent up and possibly hungry.  Which meant it would strike hard and fast.  The monster sprang from its cell in seconds.  Bending the bars of its former prison as it broke free.

Able to rip and tear its prey apart, it had full mobility of its eight limbs.  Judging by the blood clinging to its yellowed fur, when in the underground, the monster was unable to move without harming itself.  Not that it was weakened, but as an injured animal armed with talon-like claws and not one but two sets of teeth interlaced with each other, Shiro was well in over his head.  Its white eyes rolled in its sockets while it shook itself.  Its belly covered in soft scales.

Unlike the Asteroid Wraith, this one was familiar, but he never faced anything bigger than an adolescent before.  What he was up against was allowed to mature, to grow to its deadliest potential.  An adult Sand Royal.

The Royal stayed close to the hot sand, writhing across its surface, and Shiro did his best to stay out of its line of sight.  The crowd was quieter than most, but their numbers still acted as a distraction.  The creature wouldn’t notice him as long as he kept behind it.  If he got close enough, though, it wouldn’t need to see him.  That was the dangerous part of hunting down these beasts.

They felt prey move through the sand, and a biped like a human or a Galra was among their favorites.  Easy to throw off balance and catch in their jaws mid-fall.  Shiro’s cybernetic arm made him even heavier than most, so he would be caught at a further distance.  Giving it a wide berth meant he couldn’t attack either.

As with all the best laid plans, things went awry rather early.  Shiro stepped too close, and the Royale was on him in moments.  It twisted its entire body just to get at him, the red mane rising on its back.  No place to hide or run to.  The only option was to stand his ground.

But fighting Sendak kept him fluid.  When the beast was nearly on him, Shiro leaped clear of its mouth.  A set of claws caught him just below his collarbone.  He swung his arm as he ducked below its belly, and cut open its underside. Not a deep wound but enough to spray his face with hot blood.

The crowd, which had been relatively restrained, roared with applause. Although not the echoing cheers he was used to, the familiar rush came back.  This time, it was more than survival.  He relished the performance instead.  He wiped the blood away from his eyes, slicking his greying hair back, and started to circle his opponent.

The Royale tried and failed to bury itself in the sand.  The dusting across the floor was too shallow for a monster of its size, and it was left in the open.  It wasn’t long before it also began searching for a way to corner Shiro.

“Come on, you bastard…”  He muttered to himself, still grinning.  “Let’s cut off one of those legs of yours.”

Rather than wait for it to make a move, Shiro charged forward.  It roared and rushed towards him as well.  Even hurt, the Royale wasn’t a prey animal.  It knew that if it ran, that meant this smaller creature was the predator.  A defensive wound wasn’t enough to slow it down.

Shiro tried to feign an attack, but his arm was almost crushed in its mouth.  Its bite only missed by inches.  He swung his left fist and caught it just below the eye. It recoiled in surprise, only to try and tear into that arm instead.

But Shiro still had his wits about him.  He dipped low again and raced to get behind it.  The long body meant it needed to contort itself around to try and catch him, slowing it down.  He didn’t have a wide opening.  He barely managed to clip its heel before the Royale was on him.  It slammed into the point where his arm met metal, and the quintessence shorted.

Wrestled to the ground, Shiro tried to catch its mouth mid-bite.  He cried out as its canines cut through his left palm, but his right arm reactivated just in time.  Although he was bleeding, the creature wasn’t able to bite all the way down.  He got off with a deep scrape, rather than a puncture wound.  What got him on his feet was a swift kick to the underside of the Royale’s jaw.  It backed up and shook its head.

Shiro didn’t try to run back and regroup.  He ran forward and took a leap of faith.  He cleared the ground just enough to land on top of the monster’s head.  In its confusion, it reared up onto its four hind legs.  He clung to its red mane with his left hand, and he pierced its back with his right.  Holding his fingers together to form a blade, stabbing through its thick hide right along the spine.

The pink quintessence cut through the flesh and muscle with no resistance.  It wasn’t a mortal wound, but the howl of pain confirmed its effectiveness.

As hard as he tried to hold on, the fierce bucking made it impossible to keep his grip for long.  Shiro was thrown off and had to jump to his feet.  The monster was losing sense.  It got too close, and he sheared its side with his fingertips.  Pun aside, he had the upper hand.

They twisted around each other.  Injured or not, the Royale’s claws were impossible to avoid.  Shiro’s armor was littered with deep scratches, and in other places, the beast ripped right down to the skin.  The wounds felt fresh every time he pivoted, either to dodge or attack.  The crowd celebrated whether he succeeded or not.

Although their blood wasn’t the same, Shiro couldn’t tell the stains apart.  His original plan to take out the Royale’s legs wasn’t working.  He managed to slow it down.  Caught the tail quite a few times, but it didn’t throw it off balance enough to make that strategy worth the trouble either.  That was all the time he had before he weaved past another swipe of its paw.   The only choice left was to get up on top of it again.

Taking almost a pitcher’s stance, Shiro stared it down.   _ “Come on!” _

Confused, the Royale hesitated for a moment.  It got low to the ground as well, and it weaved its head side to side.  Its tail thrashed in the opposite direction but kept the same rhythm.  They watched one another until the creature charged forward.  Its head still lowered.

Shiro waited for the perfect moment to strike.  When it was a mere arm’s length away, he sprang up.  Leaping clear of its jaws, his boot landed square between its eyes.  He ran up and over its skull.  His right hand pierced through at the base of its neck, and he dragged his fingers down its spine.  The inhuman screams rang in his ears.  He got halfway to the tail before the Royale rolled onto its back.

Unfortunately for it, this last ditch effort to save itself did only one thing.  It pushed Shiro’s metal arm further into its body, right up to the elbow.  Enough give to save him from being crushed underneath.  The Royale slammed down onto its belly again, and Shiro found himself still buried in its body.  He felt every twitch of muscle even while the quintessence continued to burn the tissue around it.

The Royale, although not dead, was defeated.  It lay limp save for its heavy, pained breaths.  Despite them trying to kill each other, Shiro felt pity for the beast.  He accepted coming here over trying to escape, but it didn’t have a choice.  Ritual or sport, he still fought an animal.  It felt a lot different than going toe to toe with another sentient being.

Shiro looked to the stands for recognition.  Zarkon remained seated at his throne, with Haggar at his side, and Sendak and the sister wives sat in a row behind their emperor.  He didn’t dare look for them before the match, but he searched their faces for an answer in the wake of his victory.  It was Zara who answered his unspoken question.  She drew a line across her throat with a single claw, and he knew what was expected.

“Just as well.”  He turned away from the crowd and pulled his arm free from its back.  He walked down the spine, towards the head, and urged the beast to get to its feet.  “It won’t be long.  I’ll make it as quick as I can.”

As if it understood its fate, the Royale sluggishly turned its body around to face Zarkon’s throne.  Shiro used its mane as reins and kept it steady.  Once he was sure the emperor would have the clear view, he pulled its head up.  Its neck was too thick for him to reach around and slit across the jugular, but he had another option.  Too bad it wasn’t any less gruesome.

Shiro cleared his throat and spoke as loud as he could.  Whether he was heard or not, he felt he needed to close with a speech.  “Regardless of what happens today…” He took a deep breath and continued.  “You will know this!

“I am still, and I will always be, the one and the only…  _ undefeated Champion of the Galra!” _

To thunderous applause and rising cheers, Shiro plunged his right arm through top of the Royale’s spine.  He dug deep into its neck until even his shoulder was buried inside.  There was no cry, no writhing.  The dying animal tensed and then relaxed.  He kept his promise, the death was quick and clean despite his brutality.

With a sickening squelch, Shiro pulled himself free.  The quintessence faded and deactivated, and his arm was coated in thick blood and scraps of tissue.  The smell was awful, but he still grinned as the head fell at his feet.  His yellow eyes met not Zarkon’s gaze, but Sendak’s.

Although it was difficult to see from such a distance, the commander was smiling.  He was the first among the Galra to stand and applaud, and the sister wives soon followed suit.  The Galra stood in a wave that parted around their seated emperor.  When the whole stadium was standing, Zarkon also rose to his feet.  He didn’t applaud, but the smirk on his face was clear as day.

Shiro earned his approval.

Raising a single hand and without a word, the emperor opened the gates to the Red Lion’s temple.  A half-circle of druids waited for Shiro behind it, and past them he could see a black fountain which ran with the yellow quintessence.  Just the sight of it sent a shiver through him, and he walked towards both it and the druids.  Before he reached them, Haggar appeared in the center of their circle.

“Unnecessary grandstanding aside, Champion… you have earned your right to meet with the Red Lion.”  She regarded him with a warmer tone than usual.  If he didn’t know better, he might’ve thought she was proud of him.  “She is calling for you.”

The other druids moved away from the pair and towards the fountain.  Haggar waited for him to walk past her, and then she followed behind.  The gate closed, and there was a sudden silence.  The lighting didn’t change, but Shiro felt like the world was looming over him.  A battle in an arena was familiar and almost second nature at this point.  Intergalactic holy grounds, and a religious figure calling to him from within, that was still unsettling.

He followed Haggar and the other druids to the fountain, where she dipped the same ceremonial goblet from his indoctrination.  Filled to the brim, she passed it to him without a cryptic warning or wordy blessing.  Shiro’s best guess was the quintessence would revitalize him after the battle.  Not only that, but Sendak mentioned him needing a dose every other day to start with.  He didn’t question the consequences if he didn’t.  Too late to think about it after all this.

When he drank it down, his senses opened up all over again.  He didn’t feel sick or disoriented like he did after his arm was attached.  What did throw him was the deep rumble rolling out from deep within the temple.  It wasn’t a roar, but the Red Lion’s presence reached out to him.  Shiro watched the druids form a row on either side of the path leading to Her lair.

Haggar continued to follow him, but he felt her presence less and less.  Her energy, powerful as it was, was nothing in comparison to one of the lions of Voltron.  She was small, and she was unnecessary.  None of the druids mattered to this being.  If the Galra had gods, then surely the Red Lion was among them.

Shiro didn’t even realize he was inside the temple until the doors closed behind him.  He was so lost in the energy of the place that he didn’t even remember the entrance.  The temple was pitch black inside, but he walked on.  His eyes adjusted to the lack of natural light quicker than expected.  A perk from becoming a Galra, he supposed.

When he was able to see, the walls around him reminded Shiro of a cathedral on Earth.  Tall archways lined the center path, but there were alcoves on either side of him.  At one point in the temple’s history, more than one person was welcomed inside at a time given there were benches for visitors.  Perhaps they were meant for the pilgrims who traveled across the universe to come here and worship.  He imagined it was beautiful once with candlelight or a variation of it.

At the end of the first hall, two empty pedestals flanked him.  They both depicted a lion.  In the center of the room, Shiro found another fountain, and this one was taller and grander than what stood outside.  Five lions’ heads with open mouths circled the middle tier, and above them was the face of Voltron.  He stepped towards it and rested his right hand on the fountain’s base.

Without warning, the entire sculpture glowed a deep red.  Shiro stepped back, but the energies in his arm stirred up a long forgotten spell or latent magic.  The red light welled up from the middle of the empty pool to the top of Voltron’s head, and soon the fountain poured red quintessence out from the lions’ mouths.  It filled the pool, and then the lines, which he missed before, spiraling out from its base.

The lights Shiro tried to imagine on his way through the hall sprang to life, and beautiful murals of the Red Lion appeared along the wall and across the ceiling.  Every alcove glowed, and he swore he heard singing.  Not out loud but inside his own head.  Choirs of innumerable aliens rang through the halls and echoed above him, but he didn’t see anyone else there.  He was alone save for the haunted songs of the temple’s past.

_ “A warrior has come…” _ a voice whispered.   _ “I am not alone, after so long.” _

Spurred on by a mysterious possession, Shiro rounded the fountain and headed for the sanctuary.  The singing grew louder, and he felt unseen spirits pass by him.  Although he didn’t see them, some part of him knew they weren’t figments of his imagination.  These weren’t Galra spirits either.  They were much older than the Galra, but he felt a strange kinship with them.  Like he knew what they once were before an unknown disaster struck.

The spirits left him with a heavy feeling in his chest, and it threatened to overwhelm the Red Lion’s call.  Like the weight of the universe was upon him.  The same feeling he got when he was standing among the druids outside.

_ “They are memories now,” _ the voice assured him.   _ “Even in life, they would not hurt you.  The one who calls himself ‘Champion of the Galra.’” _

It sounded amused by that title.  If this was the Red Lion, then her voice was deeper than he expected.  She sounded both commanding and welcoming, but he sensed a weariness that lingered at the end of every sentence.  Like a retired officer who had too many stories to ever tell.

Rows upon rows of empty pews stood alongside Shiro as he pressed on.  In the eerie red light, he started to see dark wisps of the memories she spoke of, and the further he went, the more solid they became.  Until he was sure of what he saw.  They looked almost human, but the ghosts stood a bit taller than himself.  Their ears were pointed, and on their cheeks, right below where their eyes would be, were white markings.

_ “Leave them be, Champion.  My children’s battle is not done, but their quarrel is not with you.  They do not know you, but they know you are kin.” _

Behind the empty altar, a single door remained closed.  Shiro approached it without hesitation, but he was surprised by how warm the handle was against his palm.  If he didn’t know better, he would think another person was there just moments before he arrived.

Despite the supposed age of the temple, the door opened without so much as a creak.  Across the inner sanctum’s walls were carvings of her, which glowed with the same quintessence that poured out from the fountain. Among them in the center, surrounded by a glowing red shield, was the Red Lion in all her glory.  Although he saw her in past visions, she left Shiro breathless in person.

The Red Lion was true to her name.  Her mechanical body was unlike anything possible on Earth, and even the Galra themselves had nothing to compare.  The overlaying armor was a beautiful cherry red, and the underarmor was black and grey.  He could see the articulation in her joints, which were perfect for fluid and quick movement.  No wonder the Galra revered her like a god.  An ageless weapon on her own, made more formidable with her sisters.

She gazed down on Shiro with dim yellow eyes, and with the same voice, she spoke to him.

_ “You arrive, Champion.  After all these years, decades of calling to you, we finally meet one another face to face.  Now, I can ask only this… _

_ “Why should I think you worthy?” _


	22. Seeing Red

The question stung like an insult.  The Red Lion claimed she called to him for decades, but Shiro only heard her over the last months.  It wasn’t years.  If she did call to him before, it was so long ago that the memory was gone.  Lost along with learning to walk and his first words, maybe as far back as his birth.  He felt humbled, yet he felt so much more.

“How am I worthy?”  His anger was obvious in his snarl.  “I wouldn’t be here if I  _ wasn’t worthy.” _

He approached the red sphere that shielded the lion from him.  Not that he could harm a mechanical beast that was larger than even the Galra fighter ships, but he wasn’t going to back away.  He ran his fingers over the shield, pressed his palms on its glowing red surface.  Then slammed both fists against it.

“You called to me, but you don’t know half of what I’ve been through.  You weren’t there, not when I was on Earth.  You never called me!”

What Shiro’s younger self would’ve given if he knew this living machine existed among the stars.  Knew who he was and what he fought against.  Just one single person- or whatever she saw herself as- who understood and kept watch even if they were unable to help him.

“You never said a word to me, and I had to figure out everything on my own up until I was sent to Pluto.  And you know what I got for my trouble?”

The Red Lion said nothing.

“All  _ this!” _

Shiro shed his armor from his helmet to his pauldrons and chestplate.  He even peeled down his under armor for one good, long look at his scars.  His latest bloodied wounds aside, visible claw marks and healed burns decorated his chest and what was left of his arms.  Deep crevices that never filled out and ridges that felt rough to the touch, and the only smooth scar among them was the mark across his nose.

And oh, they were talking about that one soon enough.

“I’m worthy because, from the minute I woke up in that first cell, I never stopped.  I never stopped being stubborn, or pissed, even when I was losing my damn mind.”

Shiro’s knees gave out after the coliseum lights dimmed and the audience disappeared, almost every single time.  He remembered the cold bars against bloodied hands.  How much he shook and curled into himself, trying to protect what he had left.  He stayed awake most nights while listening to his fellow gladiators.  Some died in their sleep, and their bodies were left there until the next morning.  Taken out with the rest of the trash, tossed into space.

It was a gamble, a roll of the dice.  If Shiro just bowed his head, never dared to challenge Sendak… he would be dead.  Gladiators like him was didn’t live to a ripe old age, didn’t retire to a comfortable life on a sparsely populated planet.  They died out in the dirt or in their cells.

“Living through that hell should be worthy enough for anyone.”  He jabbed his finger towards the Red Lion, and his glare fixated on her eyes.  “I didn’t have you, or anyone, watching my back out there.  Maybe you knew about me, but I don’t owe you a damn thing.”

_“Are you blaming me for what you suffered, Champion?”_  She didn’t move while she spoke, but he felt her meet his gaze.   _“Do you think that I should have saved you from your torment?  Come for you, to protect you from your enemies?”_  
“No.”  Shiro dug in his heels and slammed against the shield a second time.  “But I don’t want to hear how you called for me, when the only time I heard your voice was after I lost my arm.  When you didn’t even reach out to me while that bastard ‘claimed’ me for himself.”

The growl started deep in his chest and traveled up his throat, bleeding into his voice.  “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.  Don’t tell me you don’t know what it means, to have one clean scar that everyone can see.”

Whether the Red Lion recognized her influence or not, the Galra revered her and her sisters as deities.  This entire temple and the pilgrimage it was once a part of were testaments to that belief, and even she wouldn’t be able to ignore their faith in her.  Their customs and traditions which held the Galra culture together.  Claiming mates, drinking quintessence, rigging assassinations, and hosting trials, and all that besides whatever druidic rituals performed behind closed doors.

_ “I do know, Champion,” _ she assured him.   _ “I see your pain, and I feel your anger.  Tell me once more, why should I find you worthy?” _

Was the Red Lion testing his patience?  If so, she broke it.  Pushed him too far, and Shiro let loose every last thought he held onto.

“I’m worthy because, even without your fucking help, I’m going to find a way to end the Galra Empire.  Because it can’t go on like this, and the only way to break their hold, is to sabotage them.”  His smile was venomous, and he tasted the bitterness in his mouth.  “The only reason I want you?  Is because you can get me there that much faster.

“When it comes down to it, though,  _ I don’t need you.” _

The silence which followed was empty.  A solemn dismissal, or that was how Shiro interpreted it.  The lion stayed quiet while he made his case, but he didn’t feel her eyes on him anymore.  His instincts were wrong, but he needed to make good on his threat.  If he said he didn’t need her, then he accepted that decision.  No turning back.

Just as he was about to leave, Shiro heard the sound of a hatch opening.  He looked up and found the Red Lion’s mouth agape, and inside was the waiting cockpit.  The lion descended from the middle of the sphere, and as the shield fell away, all four of its paws rested on the temple ground.  In the back of his mind, he heard disembodied laughter.

_ “After ten thousand years, Champion… I have found a worthy pilot,”  _ she said.   _ “One who is not afraid to carry out their will upon the world, through their own drive and instinct.” _  She knelt before him.   _ “You, Takashi Shirogane, are no longer the Champion of the Galra. _

_ “You are the Red Paladin.” _

Shiro stared in awe, and through no power of his own, he started to walk towards her.  The lion’s eyes threw light as he got closer.  When he put his hand on her muzzle, points of blue also activated.  He clambered into her cockpit and found his seat, before the mouth closed around him.  He saw the carvings glow even brighter than when he entered the inner sanctum.

Panels activated at his fingertips as well as the main controls on either side.  Although she said nothing to him, the lion’s influence was strong enough to tell him where to place his hands.  Which settings gave them optimal lift and how to launch themselves into the air.

“What about the temple?” Shiro asked.  “There’s no way out other than that door, unless you plan on us charging through it.”

The Red Lion laughed again, and he pushed her controls downward.   _ “This temple was built around me.  It has no purpose, now that I have found you.” _

With a strong kick from her hind legs, they thrust up towards the ceiling.  Shiro braced himself for impact with it, and he slammed the accelerators.  A triumphant roar echoed through the temple.  The metal and stone around them gave way, and a flood of red light from the planet’s sun spilled over the lion.  As they soared above the winds and sand.

Shiro’s eyes widened, and he looked out over the landscape to beyond the horizon.  The Red Lion urged him to go faster, unleash their shared need to break free if only for a moment.  He didn’t question her, and he didn’t hide the smile that spread from ear to ear.  Like his first flight outside of a simulator.

“Alright, Red, let’s see what we can do together.”

Adjusting her accelerators again, this time with greater confidence, they rose through to the edge of the atmosphere.  Once they were close enough to break orbit, Shiro slammed them back down in the direction of Carnelian’s surface.  The remains of the temple and the coliseum rapidly appeared through the haze of swirling sand.  Fighting against the drag, he reined in the controls and pulled them towards his core.  Soaring over the structure like a damned Blue Angel.

“That is  _ exactly _ what we’re talking about!”  Shiro sat back in the pit and laughed.  “Holy shit, I never thought I would feel it again.  Never…!”

“Had your fun, Paladin?”

Zarkon’s voice snapped Shiro right out of his celebration, although the lion kept steady.  The emperor’s face appeared not long after establishing contact.  His pink eyes stared Shiro down, but the lingering amusement showed.  Haggar glowered behind him, none too pleased with the current state of the temple.

“We thought it would be a good way to get acquainted,” Shiro replied.  “Awaiting further instruction, at your orders.”

He grappled with basic protocol despite Red nagging at him.  She wasn’t ready for orders after millennia spent waiting for her next pilot.  She whispered about how much Shiro needed this too, just for a little longer.

“You will return to Commander Sendak, with the Red Lion.”  Zarkon leaned back in his throne, but whether he was still on the planet itself or back in his ship wasn’t clear.  “I understand a docking bay is prepared for you.  It seemed that he knew better than me, that you would succeed in taming the Red Lion’s vibrant personality.”

_ “Deceiver…” _

Shiro prayed that Zarkon wasn’t able to hear the lion as the Black Paladin.  Judging by how the emperor’s expression remained the same, he guessed not.  He continued to stare back at the new pilot until he nodded in approval.

“Once I decide what duties are necessary for your unique rank, I will get in contact with the commander,” he explained.  “Until that time, you are responsible for assisting him.  Is that clear, Paladin?”

“Yes, sir.” He saluted.  It felt stiff and unnatural while seated in the cockpit.  “I’ll report there immediately.”

“Good.”  Zarkon chuckled, showing a sliver of sharpened teeth.  “I trust you will keep the excitement coming.”

After their connection closed, Shiro sighed and flopped back in his seat.  He heard Red’s systems humming behind him, and he felt her presence wrapped around him.  Like a cat seeking warmth.  Although he wasn’t starved for attention, it comforted him in a way he couldn’t explain.

“Sendak will give us plenty of time to train together,” he assured her.  “Don’t get too bent out of shape over it, Red.”

Whether she agreed or not, she let him take full control of her flight.  Her insides were simpler than anything Shiro piloted on Earth, but the minimalist design masked a lot of power.  She needed only a slight hand.  When they played earlier, she was holding him back to keep them from spiraling out of control.  Or worse, probably worse.

The battleship came into view, but it wasn’t dwarfed by the emperor’s behemoth of a vessel.  Given that they didn’t pass one another, Shiro guessed that Zarkon left while he talked with Red.  Perhaps he knew the connection was made, and there wasn’t much point in staying.  The Galra found their Red Paladin, but the others were still missing.  Which meant no Voltron.

As promised, the docking bay was left wide open for them.  With Red’s guidance, they landed as smooth as possible inside, and she padded forward while the hatch closed behind them.  Galra lined the surrounding walkways, and Sendak and the sister wives waited for him under the lion’s immense jaws.  He leaped out of the cockpit and landed in front of them.

Shiro couldn’t stop grinning.

To his surprise, it was Zara who rushed to him first.  Her hand resting on his right arm as she leaned in close, her fangs showing through her smile.  “You were magnificent!  A sight to behold, breaking through the temple like that… and after such a spectacular fight!”

The other three joined her in swarming him with praise.  They pressed up against him from all direction until Shiro was locked in the middle.  They settled down after Sendak joined them, and the youngest of the four blushed under their thin fur.  As if they just remembered he was also there and made room for him.

Sendak loomed over all his mates, but his disapproving glare settled on Shiro in particular.  Was it because he achieved what the commander couldn’t?

The sister wives stepped behind the new paladin.  Everyone held their breath, but no one more than him.  He gained a mythical robot, but if that meant Sendak’s ire, then he made a mistake.  His instincts were all wrong.

The worst Shiro got was a crack to the back of his head.  “For being the Red Paladin, you lack sense.  Where’s your damn helmet?  The armor?”

“In the temple?”  He winced.   _ “And that hurt, you ass.” _

“As it should.”  Sendak smirked and ruffled his whitened tuff of hair.  “Off with you then.  Get cleaned up, and we’ll celebrate your victory and your new title.”  He leaned down and whispered, so only Shiro heard.  “I will meet you there, wait for me.”

As much as things changed, seemed others stayed the same.  Although Shiro wasn’t about to be outdone.  He grabbed a hold of Sendak’s collar and pulled the commander into a rough kiss.  Let it linger for just a moment before breaking away.

“At your leisure, sir.”


End file.
